


Five minutes with you

by Craftybadger1234



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Boys Kissing, Communication, Cuddling & Snuggling, Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Angst, Foot Massage, Frottage, Holding Hands, M/M, Masturbation, POV Third Person, Scent Kink, Sleepovers, Therapy, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27329272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Craftybadger1234/pseuds/Craftybadger1234
Summary: Simon's therapist thinks it's time to work on his physical intimacy issues, five minutes at a time.Set almost during WS, in that span of time when Baz and Simon start drifting apart physically - We'll have none of that, boys!
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 68
Kudos: 182





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to imhellakitty for early beta work - helping me to find Baz's voice and answering a billion questions about CO canon (so much of which didn't even end up in the final fic!). You are awesome!
> 
> Thanks also to CleopatraIsMyName for later beta work - helping me with brit-picking and those little things that always trip me up. No uni in my HP writings, so I appreciate your feedback there most especially! You're amazing and as always, I'm so glad you found me and offered your help! :)
> 
> I like to stick to canon wherever possible but I had to change Baz's living situation. I'm too new at CO to attempt Fiona, her voice, and her flat. So Baz is living on his own instead.

“How was Dr Carter today?” Penny asked as Simon slumped in his seat at the kitchen table.

Baz set a plate of ginger biscuits and a cup of tea in front of Simon, worried about his downcast look. He knew therapy could be tricky given Simon’s trouble with words. Having to Skype these sessions only made it worse.

Blue eyes flicked up, then back to the plate of biscuits. Simon took one but didn’t eat it. Bad news indeed.

“She thinks it’s time I work on my physical intimacy issues.”

Penny froze and met Baz’s eyes. “You know what? Tonight would be a good night for take-away. I don’t think any of us feel like cooking.” She stood abruptly and shrugged her coat on. “Why don’t I pick something up while you two talk.”

Simon responded by tossing his biscuit to the plate and burying his head in his hands. Baz gave her a grateful smile and a wink in goodbye. As soon as the door closed behind her, he heard a sigh of relief from Simon.

The silence stretched on, but Baz refused to be the one to break it. Over the last few months, they’d gone from snogging in every available moment, to brief kisses hello and goodbye, to sitting on opposite ends of the sofa at all times. Baz never once complained about it, content to follow Simon’s lead as he worked through the trauma of last Christmas. 

He’d seen in his parents’ relationship the way intimacies rose and fell over time. They had the rest of their lives together and the occasional dry spell between them didn’t scare him.

But he knew they scared Simon.

He’d hinted enough times that Baz should move on. That he would be happier with someone else. Baz could only scoff and roll his eyes. There was no one else for him. And given enough time, Simon would believe it as well.

“Dr Carter thinks…” His hoarse words trailed off. Clearing his throat, Simon tried again. “Dr Carter thinks we should try setting a timer.”

“A timer?”

“Yeah. Five minutes. We should - do whatever. Touching, kissing. For five minutes at a time.” 

“At a time? How often? Once a day? A few times a day?”

Simon shrugged. “I guess that’s up to us.”

Possibilities exploded through Baz’s thoughts. The slick slide of their tongues. The feel of a warm hand in his. Curling up in the cocoon of leathery red wings. _Naked_.

Thank Crowley his voice stayed steady as he said, “Hmm, interesting idea.”

Simon scowled at the table. “It’s a stupid idea. Five minutes? Seems like just enough to get riled up and unsatisfied. Everyone loves a cocktease,” he said with a sarcastic eye roll.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Snow," Baz said, despite the gutter his own mind currently resided in. "Five minutes is an excellent start for something simple. Something chaste."

"Something chaste," Simon mumbled. "It's stupid."

"I think it's brilliant." Baz went to the kitchen to get the timer off the fridge. He pressed the minute button five times and set it on the table. "Let's see how long it is." 

The digital timer began counting down, and the two boys sat in silence across from each other at the kitchen table. Simon picked up a ginger biscuit and took tiny nibbles, darting glances at Baz and the room at large the entire time. Every now and again he rubbed his t-shirt right over the spot Baz knew the spade of his tail rested when Penny didn't hide it. An absentminded gesture Baz both loved and was extremely jealous of.

Baz let his mind wander through infinite possibilities. _So much_ could be accomplished in five minutes. Quiet nuzzles at the soft skin just below Simon's ear. Gentle exploration of his lips. Caresses of the corded muscles of his forearms. Or across the new muscles of his chest that supported flight. He suspected Simon of sneaking out at night to fly, but had never pinned him down about it.

The beep-beep-beep of the timer made them both jump. Baz silenced it. "What did you think?" At Simon's insolent shrug, Baz continued, "Seemed long enough to me. Enough for warm fuzzies, but not so much I'd feel antsy after." He eyed Simon and the light flush of his cheeks. "I imagine you had enough time to work through your fake compliance towards a mini freak-out, but not enough time for a full on blow-up. Five minutes seems perfect."

Simon flipped him two fingers as he got to his feet. "I still think it's stupid."

"But you'll give it a try tomorrow?" Baz called to Simon's retreating form.

He paused in the hall. "I'll think about it. I'm going to shower while my wings are still hidden."

Baz drank the last of his tea with a smile. Showering now meant wings free all evening.

Perfect.

\--------

Baz didn't want to be the one to bring it up while they watched the telly after dinner the next night. Penny retreated to her room to give them privacy, and Baz couldn’t help but note _she_ was allowed to run a reassuring hand down Simon’s arm. No frozen limbs or widened eyes there. Simon took all of her idle touches in stride.

Only Baz made him tense up like a startled rabbit.

Baz sat on the sofa with tea in hand and prided himself on his calm when the timer landed on the coffee table with a loud clatter. Simon dropped onto his end of the sofa with a huff, as if he didn’t care whether they used it or not.

Setting his tea down, Baz picked up the timer and scooted close to Simon. “Did you have something specific in mind for this first time?” Baz asked.

Simon pressed his lips together and his wings twitched. He shook his head, keeping his gaze on the television.

“Perhaps we could hold hands?” Baz asked. 

At Simon’s curt nod, Baz started the timer and set it on the coffee table. Slowly he laced their fingers together, resting them on Simon’s thigh. They were pressed together from hip to ankle, with one of Simon’s wings a solid weight against Baz’s side. The warmth seeping through Baz’s clothes almost made him moan in pleasure. Thank Crowley he hadn’t fed yet today, or all the blood would be pooling in his groin in a most humiliating way. Was it usual to get hard over hand-holding?

He ran his thumb up and down Simon’s thumb, pausing at a small mole just below his knuckle. His skin looked even more golden tan next to Baz’s own porcelain-grey skin. Where Baz’s fingers were long and tapered (perfect for the violin), Simon’s were thick and sturdy. His work in a bakery not far from the flat had given him new scars - small nicks from chopping fruits and veggies for pastries, and burns from hot pans. Kneading dough maintained the muscles in his arms - a far cry from daily sword practice of their Watford years.

As the minutes ticked by, Simon’s heart rate began to pick up. The rhythm of it reverberated through Baz, reminding him of early summer when kisses came so easily and the rapid rate was the music he fell asleep to. Simon’s grip grew tighter and tighter. Although his vampire bones could withstand the pressure, he didn’t want to drive Simon to the breaking point with this exercise.

But before he could tactfully withdraw, the timer beeped loudly at them, once again making them both jump. Simon’s breath left in a loud _whoosh_.

Baz swiped the timer to shut it off as he moved back to his end of the sofa. He sipped at his tea, waiting for Simon to process a reaction.

“That’s it?” Simon asked, glaring at Baz. 

“Five minutes was what we agreed to, yes?”

Simon stared at the telly. “I thought maybe you’d ask for another five minutes.”

“Do you want another five minutes?”

Simon scowled, then slowly shook his head.

“Then I don’t know why you’re upset at me.”

He didn’t get a response, unless one counted Simon pulling his knees up to his chest and twitching his wings so they hid his face from Baz. 

Baz smiled into his teacup. “I thought that was rather nice.”

They sat in silence for the rest of the programme. When the credits rolled, Baz took his cup back to the kitchen. Pulling on his coat, he said, “Get good rest, Simon. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Simon’s wing twitched and he nodded. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

The short walk to his flat passed so quickly, Baz almost thought he sprouted wings of his own to fly him there. He drank his evening’s portion of blood, wondering for the millionth time how everything about a pig could be so delicious and yet its blood tasted only marginally better than a merwolf. He brushed his teeth vigorously to get the taste out, then eagerly went to bed.

And _finally_ let his body run wild with the memory of Simon Snow’s hand in his. 

\--------

Focusing on lessons the next day took all of Baz’s formidable will. _Friday_ meant a late evening with Simon, and the entirety of Saturday and Sunday to look forward to as well. But this particular weekend had the promise of a minimum of fifteen minutes spent _touching_ Simon. 

He’d never felt more like a slag than he did that evening, wanking quickly before he left for Simon and Penny’s flat. Of all they’d been through in the last few weeks (months, years), trying to avoid an erection while _holding hands_ felt like a real low. It launched him right back to fifteen years old when _feeding_ gave him so much trouble every time Simon looked his way with that fire in his eyes.

Occasionally Simon invited him to stay the night - if the weather turned ugly or their film ran long - but with this timer situation, he probably wanted Baz out of the way as soon as it was over. He packed a serving of blood just in case, but not any overnight clothes.

“Basilton Grimm-Pitch, you are my very favourite person today!” Penny said as she opened the door. “I’ve been dreaming of this lasagne all day!” She grabbed the bag full of take-away from his hands and inhaled deeply. “Please tell me you got extra garlic bread.”

“With cheese.”

Simon welcomed him with a sexy quirk of his lips and a wink as he set out plates. “Water’s heating on the stove for your special capri sun.”

“Thanks but I think I’m going to drink it later.” Thankfully this late in the day, blushing didn’t come easily.

For a moment he thought Simon might question it, but then his eyes darted to Penny and he shrugged it off. They sat together, sharing Italian food and stories about their day.

“I’m dead serious - she ordered twelve fairy cakes with dicks on them.”

“Simon, as my only friend, I’m fairly certain you’ll be organising my hen-do and I am stating now, _emphatically_ , that I do _not_ want dicks of any sort on any of the pastries. Or balloons, or napkins. Or anything at all, really.”

“Noted.”

“What did Maris say?” Baz asked. Simon’s boss at the bakery had a kind, yet innocent heart and he couldn’t imagine her even voicing the word ‘dick’ in the first place.

“The woman provided pictures and everything. Maris said she’d do her best.” Simon grinned. “I told her I’d ice them, and I thought she might start crying in relief.”

Penny clucked in disapproval. “Honestly, why didn’t she just say no?”

“You know Maris doesn’t like to disappoint anyone.” 

Baz cleaned up the dishes while Penny and Simon lobbed lewd fairy cake ideas back and forth.

“The real issue,” Penny said as they all sat around the telly for the Great British Bake-off, “is the small surface area. Can’t put much on there at all. She should have gone for a sheet cake if she _really_ wanted to make it properly lewd.”

“Properly lewd?” Simon asked. He jumped up suddenly and returned to the kitchen. “Is that really a thing?”

“I’m with Penny on this one,” Baz said. “Those dicks are going to be tiny and disappointing on a fairy cake.” His words faltered only for a moment when the timer landed in his lap. Without looking at him, Simon sat on the other end of the sofa.

He waited until the spell wore off and Simon’s wings appeared before moving closer with the timer. Penny flashed them an encouraging smile, but otherwise focused on the telly rather than the two of them. Baz set the timer, then took Simon by the hand. After a few precious seconds, he readjusted his seat, so he could tuck one foot under his thigh and rest his bent knee on Simon’s thigh. The only way to get closer would be to sit in Simon’s lap and he couldn’t very well do that with Penelope-cockblocking-Bunce around. But he made a mental note for another night.

Simon didn’t grip his hand so tightly this time, which Baz counted as a major win. When the timer dinged, he moved back to his place on the sofa without comment. They finished their programme, and discussed the possibility of a late night film. 

“I’ll pop some popcorn while you two pick one.” Baz picked up the timer to return it to the kitchen. While the microwave popped away, he also reheated the water for his ‘special capri sun.’ A bit of sellotape and carefully applied heat sealed the capri sun juice bags for a perfect travel container of a single serving of blood. He set it in the little saucepan to heat through.

Simon came in just as the microwave dinged. He lightly rested a hand on Baz’s hip, nudging him to the side to reach the microwave above the stove. “I’ll get it.”

Baz quietly had a mini-heart attack at the casual, absentminded touch. The sort of touch that came so naturally to them four months ago. The sort of touch he hadn’t shared with Simon in far too long. 

And there was Simon acting as though nothing had happened. He dumped the bag of popcorn into a bowl and sprinkled white cheddar powder over it all. He ate a few kernels on his way back to the sitting room. Baz followed, sipping at his evening dose as he went. 

Penny chose Cloud Atlas to watch, as she did every other month or so. It quickly became one of Baz’s favourite films, primarily because it was nearly three hours long and consequently his chances of spending the night increased exponentially when they watched it. He drank the last of his blood bag and set it aside to wash and reuse, then settled in to share a bowl of popcorn with Simon Snow.

\--------

The sofa ensured Baz was the first one up the next morning. He stretched up high, and down to his toes to work the kinks from his back, then headed to the kitchen for coffee. As he sat at the table with his second cup, Simon came in with his sleepy eyes and wild bed-head.

“Morning,” he mumbled. “Did you sleep all right?”

“As usual. There’s coffee. And toast too, although it’s probably cold by now.”

Simon sat across from him with his mug and half-closed eyes. “Make me tea next time.”

“I’m the guest here, you should be waking up early to make _me_ breakfast .”

“Mm, maybe you should move in so you’re not a guest anymore.”

Baz blinked into the ensuing silence. “And… I should sleep on the sofa every night?”

Simon blushed down at his mug. “Yeah, maybe we’ll hold off a little longer on that one.” 

There wasn’t much Baz could add to that so he returned to his own coffee and his book while Simon began frying an egg to go with his cold toast. Over the sizzle and pop, Simon said, “What do you think about the timer?”

He took a deep breath as though giving it some thought for the first time instead of the eight hundredth time. “I think it’s nice. A simple and easy step forward for us. What do you think?”

The silence stretched on as Simon plated his egg and sat down again. For reasons that would forever baffle Baz (Crowley, he needed etiquette lessons), Simon took a large bite of toast before replying, “I’m not sure.” 

A few crumbs tumbled to the plate, but some stuck to Simon’s lip. It took everything Baz had not to shove the plate to the floor and crawl across the table to lick them off. He waited for Simon to find his words.

“I guess… I feel like a tease. Offering up these few minutes and nothing more.” He poked the yolk of his egg and watched it ooze. When Baz didn’t say anything, Simon added, “I hate that something so simple has turned so difficult.” His eyes flicked to Baz’s then down at his breakfast.

“I like it. I like these limits. It keeps us both safe. If we both know where the line is, we won’t accidentally cross it. The timer beeps, and we’re done. It makes a difficult thing simple once again.”

“You’re going to get tired of hand holding. You’ll ask for more.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe you’ll be the one asking for more. We can’t worry about maybes and what-ifs. We have to focus on now. And now, I like it.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Simon sipped at his coffee with a sigh. “Yeah, for now it’s good.” He finished his food, then went to wash his plate. “You know, Saturday is a long day together.” Drying his hands on a towel he said, “We could try for ten today. Five this morning, five this evening?”

Baz smiled slowly, “Absolutely. On the sofa as usual?”

“Actually…” Simon plucked the timer from the fridge and came around to Baz’s chair. His wings made him larger than life as he handed the timer to Baz. Blue eyes searched Baz’s face for a moment. “I thought we could hug.”

“Yes. Yes of course. Let me just…” Baz stood as he started the timer and barely had time to set it down before Simon’s arms enveloped him in a warm hug. 

His breath left him in a juddering sigh. Aleister fucking Crowley, he’d forgotten just how much _heat_ Simon put out! He bit back a groan as it soaked through his t-shirt and warmed his naturally chilled skin. _Steady on_ , he reminded himself. It wouldn’t do to start climbing Simon like a tree!

After a minute or two, Simon’s hands shifted on Baz’s back and he began to tremble. Baz rubbed a soothing hand up Simon’s back, bumping the base of his wing lightly. Knowing Simon liked to keep his wings to himself (selfish bastard), Baz immediately moved his hand back down to the small of Simon’s back.

Abruptly, Simon pulled away. “I can’t,” he mumbled, shielding his face. “I’m so sorry… but I can’t.” He spun on his heel and fled for the bathroom, leaving Baz bewildered and alone.

He fell into his seat at the kitchen table, dropping his head in his hands. What the fuck just happened? Noticing the timer was still running, Baz tapped the stop button. One minute and forty-seven seconds to go. What were they going to do about that? And why had Simon left him?

Should he leave? Would Simon even want him around today after this ‘failed’ five minute run? Not that Baz cared. If Simon had trouble with five minutes at a time, three suited Baz just as well. He debated talking to Simon through the bathroom door (sometimes he needed Baz to push him), or ignoring it (sometimes he needed Baz to fuck off), and in the end decided to wait it out. At least until Penny woke up. They didn’t need to drag her into it by shouting through the door, right outside her bedroom.

At loose ends while he waited, Baz tidied the kitchen and folded his blanket. He spread his textbooks and notes on the kitchen table, even if he couldn’t focus on them at all. Perhaps he should have warned Penny somehow, he thought with a wince as she pounded on the bathroom door.

Baz hurried to the hall, and waved his arms to catch her attention. He shook his head quickly, giving her a significant look.

Slowly her arm lowered, her mouth an O of understanding. But the damage was done. Simon opened the door and stalked past her to his room without a word. She shrugged at Baz and closed the bathroom door behind her.

Baz tapped lightly at the bedroom door. “Simon. Do you want me to go?”

After an eternity of silence, the door opened. Simon turned away immediately, but Baz accepted the unspoken invitation and sat on the bed next to him. He left several inches of space between them, wishing there was a separate chair to sit in. But Simon’s bedroom was as sparsely decorated as Baz’s was cluttered. With only a bed and a low dresser, Simon had plenty of room to spread his wings, so to speak. And really, the dresser served almost no purpose since Simon’s clothes were either all over the floor or in the laundry hamper. 

“I’m sorry,” Baz said quietly.

“You’re sorry? What do you have to be sorry for?” Simon tilted his head, still not looking at Baz, but at least acknowledging he was there. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot.

The bitter words tore at Baz’s heart. “For pushing you? For jumping in so eagerly without considering if you were really ready for that step? It’s a big leap from hand holding to hugging.”

“No one else thinks it’s a big step.” He dropped his head into his hands, burying his hands in his riotous curls. “Why am I such a fucking mess?”

Neither of them had to answer that question out loud. Between care homes and the Mage, Simon was damn lucky not to be worse off.

“You’re not a mess, Simon. You’re learning who you are and what you want. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“And dragging you along with me? Fucking hell, I’m a complete arsehole. I’m no good for you, Baz.”

Those sorts of statements sliced through Baz like a physical attack. They sounded too much like _leaving_ words. Standard policy was to counteract with _staying_ words. As many as Simon needed to hear until he believed it.

“You are exactly right for me.”

Simon scoffed, but the pink in his cheeks spoke his happiness for him.

“I’m going to shower,” Baz said, getting to his feet. “After that, I don’t know. I brought homework to do. Or I can take it back home if you don’t want to see me right now. We can do the grocery shopping or sit in the park. Whatever you want. Whatever helps.”

\--------

Penny did the shopping this week, giving them a chance to speak a little more freely. But Simon being Simon, he didn’t take it. He took his laundry down to the basement launderette and didn’t come back for an hour.

The hour away seemed to perk him up. When Penny returned with food, he made sandwiches for everyone, and teased her playfully about the array of biscuits she bought simply because they were on sale.

“Don’t I bring home enough from the bakery?” he laughed, slicing a loaf of bread that came from Smell the Flours just yesterday. 

“Maris never has biscuits leftover!” Penny protested. “Especially not at the rate you eat them.”

“Remember those lavender cream ones?” Baz smiled at Simon. “Try snagging a box of those next time she makes them.”

“I could just ask. Or make some here at home for us.”

“Somehow that’s not as fun.”

Simon gave Penny her plate, then handed one to Baz. As he sat down with his own sandwich, his eyes caught on the timer still sitting on the kitchen table. He blinked at Baz a few times, then tapped the timer to resume its countdown. His legs stretched forward until they bracketed Baz’s legs. Baz didn’t comment, choosing to eat his sandwich as though his throat wasn’t tightened with nerves.

When the timer dinged, Simon turned it off and pulled his legs back. Penny kept talking, and Baz appreciated her efforts at keeping the conversation rolling when he and Simon faltered over and over again. The strange moment passed when Simon collected their empty plates.

“I’m going to check on the laundry. You’ve still got homework to do?”

Ignore it. Fine, Baz could manage that. “Unfortunately yes. Macroeconomics is making me question my life choices.”

“But maybe a walk in the park later?”

“Sounds perfect.”

\--------

A walk in the park led to an impromptu purchase of spinach and feta for Simon to use in their quiche for dinner. His passion for cooking, or more specifically for _baking_ , was Baz’s favourite change in Simon from the past year. He’d briefly considered going to uni with Baz and Penny, but found his job in the bakery to be more fulfilling than any degree a university might offer him. Now that the threat of war was over, Simon enjoyed his simple life in his simple job.

If only they could fix this one thing between them.

Simon nudged the timer at Baz and rested his feet atop of Baz’s while they ate. He gave Baz a half smile when the timer dinged and they simultaneously moved their feet apart. Not as good as holding hands on the sofa, but still nice after the hug from earlier.

Baby steps.

Baz invited Simon to his flat for Sunday, but as usual Simon declined. Without Penny to act as an unspoken buffer (read: cockblocker), Simon spooked too easily. As if Baz couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He was dying to play host to Simon again - to sit on his more comfortable sofa and watch his much larger television and play his violin and share a bottle of wine on his small balcony. 

Instead he spent Sunday pottering around Simon’s flat and jockeying with Penny for space to study at the kitchen table. But it was worth it for five minutes spent admiring the curve of Simon’s nails, the bump of each knuckle, and the array of freckles across the back of his hand. Baz would do anything, anything at all, for the warmth of Simon soaking into his skin.

\--------

Monday stretched on like… well like one would expect hours and hours of lectures to drag. Baz was too tired to contemplate the night seminar waiting for him and instead inhaled deeply of the sweet bliss in his cup. Thank Crowley for pumpkin spice season!

Some idiot, pointing at the ad for pumpkin spice everything in the café, made a disparaging remark to his girlfriend about basic bitches and their pumpkin spice lattes. 

“You know why they sell pumpkin spice every single autumn?” Baz asked, giving the guy a quick once over. “Because people buy it. And do you know why people buy it? Because it’s fucking delicious and you’re just sad you’re too ‘manly’ to give it a try.” And then for good measure, Baz seductively licked the top of his whipped cream and winked at the idiot’s girlfriend just to see her blush and giggle.

“Fucking poof,” he heard as he opened the door.

“Don’t you just wish,” Baz said, saluting with his cup. 

Fuck that idiot and his worthless opinion. Baz walked across campus, sipping the pumpkin mocha breve that had enough calories and caffeine to take the place of dinner. He sat at a picnic table under a large oak tree that was just far enough away from any buildings to make it a fairly empty part of campus. This table rarely had anyone at it, just as he preferred.

He thought about skiving off the seminar in favour of visiting Simon, but didn’t want to come across as overeager on the five minute therapy. Simon had done well over the weekend and perhaps needed this day off to think and process.

Plus, he couldn’t let his education suffer just because a pretty blue-eyed boy wanted to hold his hand. He binned his empty cup and sighed on his way to his evening seminar.

At least he had Tuesday to look forward to.

\--------

“Hey honey, I’m home!” Baz called as he entered Simon’s flat without knocking.

“He’s not here yet!” Penny called from her room.

Baz hung his jacket and scarf by the door. “Oh sorry to have bothered you.”

“It’s no bother,” she said, coming to join him in the sitting room. She smoothed her skirt as she sat, looking at him with Serious Discussion Face. “In fact, it’s good that you’re a little early.”

Baz resisted groaning. “Why do I sense a lecture in my near future.”

“It’s not a lecture, you git, it’s a conversation among friends, about a mutual friend.”

“Is Simon all right?”

“How do you think this week has gone? With the timer and all.”

Baz smoothed the line of his trousers, keeping his face calm. “Why? What did he say about it?”

“I’m asking you.”

“Well I’m asking you.”

“I asked you first.”

“What are we, four? I asked you second, so what?”

Penny huffed a sigh. “Simon has evaded me when I’ve brought it up. I thought if you shared something with me, I could share it with him and he might open up a little.”

“Don’t you think _I_ should bring it up with him?”

“Are you going to?”

Baz thought it over once again, but came to the same conclusion as before. “Not today.”

“Ba-a-a-az,” Penny whined.

“Penn-y-y-y-y,” Baz whined right back. He picked at his sleeve cuff, knowing his next words were nothing short of pathetic. “I don’t want him to get mad at me… then he won’t hold my hand.” His voice turned pleading, “It’s all I have! I can’t -”

He cut off as the door opened. “Simon!” Penny said happily. “We were just wondering when you were getting back.”

“I got held up, helping Maris close today. But,” he held up a bakery box, “I brought home those cream cheese pinwheels you love.”

“This is why you’re my favourite!” Penny gave him a quick hug before taking the box to the kitchen. “I love eating things I didn’t have to bake!”

Simon sent a smile his way, and Baz returned it, despite seething with jealousy. Why did Penny get to hug Simon? Almost as if he could hear Baz’s thoughts, Simon’s steps faltered on his way to the kitchen. Penny and Simon laughed over the smooshed pastries, and rustled up leftovers for dinner. Baz might have helped but it hurt too much, imagining them working around each other in the tiny kitchen.

Would he lay a hand on her hip like he did to Baz that day they shared popcorn? Would Penny get more than that? A nudge on the arm, or fingers brushing? Why couldn’t Baz have that? When did romantic touching bleed into every sort of touching until they were left as distant as they were back at Watford?

There was something uniquely pitiful about being almost twenty years old and still pining for the same idiot he fancied at fifteen. 

Fine, it was fine. This was a minor setback in their relationship, and they were working through it. Five minutes at a time. Baz was a Pitch and he could do this. 

He pasted a smile on his face and sat at the table, joining Penny and Simon in the idle conversation about their day. He commiserated with Penny about professors and boring lectures, and he laughed in all the right places when Simon described one annoying customer after another.

The universe rewarded him for his good behaviour. When Simon gave him the timer to set, he sat next to Baz instead of making Baz come to his end of the sofa. And when the timer dinged, Baz got one last squeeze of his hand before Simon moved _slowly_ , one could almost say _reluctantly_ , away.

Another delicious memory to hold as he drifted off to sleep alone in his own bed.


	2. Chapter 2

“What did you tell Dr Carter about your five minutes a day, and what did she think about it?” Penny asked as soon as Simon came home.

Baz wanted to kick her but didn’t think that would be very subtle considering she was at the table and he was in the kitchen. Why did magic need words? A non-verbal hex would be perfect right about now.

“It was good,” Simon said, joining Penny at the table. “She made me think about things I hadn’t thought of.”

“Like what?” Baz asked as he set tea in front of Simon. All right, so maybe he was happy Penny spoke up first.

“Erm… well…” Simon sipped at his tea while Baz and Penny sat on pins and needles. “I kept thinking about the moment. What it felt like - your hand in mine.” Baz smiled widely, his heart fluttering when Simon did the same. “And what it might be like, if I could - if I managed it without a timer.” His smile fell and his gaze dropped to his mug. “And how I might be letting you down. Asking for too much patience.”

“Simon Snow,” Baz laughed, “I assure you, I am _made_ of patience.”

His lips quirked into a half smile. “I know. For now.” He ruffled his copper curls. “Anyway, Dr Carter asked me what I missed and I hadn’t thought about that before.”

“What you missed?”

“Yeah. I’ve been caught up in you and how this might be hurting you.” When Baz shook his head again, Simon covered Baz’s hand with his own. Instantly Baz froze under the warm weight. Slowly Simon retreated back to his mug. “She asked me what I missed. From before. From when you and I first started and these things came easier. And even… with Agatha. What did I like about my relationship with her.”

Baz knew his face had moulded into the cool reserve he used at the parties his father bribed him to attend. Knowing Simon no longer wanted Agatha, and that Agatha resided five thousand miles away, did nothing to reassure Baz. Perhaps it was the reminder that his boyfriend, who doubted himself and their relationship constantly, might leave him for another pretty face. 

“So I made a list.” Simon pulled a crumpled piece of notebook paper from his pocket and handed it to Baz.

He smoothed it open on the table to read.

_1\. hair_  
_2\. kissing_  
_3\. weight_  
_4\. hands_

Yes to all of those things, even the ones he didn’t understand.

“What - erm,” Baz cleared his throat. “Number four is scratched out and then you wrote hands. What was it going to say?”

“Oh well… that’s nothing.” His eyes flicked to Penny and back, and Baz took that to mean they would discuss it later.

Penny spoke into the charged silence. “Can I see?” 

Baz pulled the list to his chest. “No! It’s none of your business!”

“I miss his hair and snogging his stupid face, that’s all,” Simon said, giving her that lopsided grin that always sent a delicious shiver down Baz’s spine.

“That’s so sweet. So romantic. I hope you two get there soon.” She patted Simon’s hand. “I guess you two should have time alone to talk about it. I’ll go pick up dinner for us.” She put on her coat and scarf. “I’ll be back in an hour. If this progresses to snogging, take it to your bedroom.”

“Penny!” Simon squealed indignantly, his face burning a gorgeous pink. She stuck her tongue out at Simon, and laughed as she left. “We’re not - we don’t have to kiss right now,” he said to Baz.

“No, I know,” Baz said. “When you’re ready.” He offered the list back to Simon. “I don’t understand all of it.”

Simon folded the paper and put it in his pocket. “I remember lying with you in bed. Just staring at the ceiling and letting my mind wander. With my hand in your hair. It’s silky and soft. I forgot and I miss it.”

“Is that what you want for today? We could -”

“I don’t think I can today.” Simon ruffled his own curls, and drained his mug of tea. “Baz, why are you doing this?” he sighed.

“Doing what?”

“I just don’t understand. Dr Carter said I should just accept the support and focus on other things but… I don’t know why you’re here. Why you’re putting up with -” he gestured wildly, “all this.”

“Because you’re worth waiting for. No, that’s not it…” He wasn’t waiting. Was he? “I’m not _waiting_ ,” he said slowly as the words formed, “as if you’re suddenly going to be what you were a few months ago.” He shook his head, unable to find the words to reassure Simon just then. “I guess I’m just… following where you lead because I want to go where you go.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe not. Maybe I’m a pathetic fool, eating up whatever crumbs you drop for me. Or maybe I’m doing the only thing I know how - supporting you on this part of your journey. I love you. _All_ of you. Not just the easy to hold parts.”

“What if I never get better?”

“What if you’re good enough as you are?”

Simon’s jaw clenched. He sighed and took his mug to the kitchen. “I feel like we’re going ‘round in circles on this one.”

“Agreed. Let’s focus on now. Today. We have time before Penny comes back. Do you want to sit with me on the sofa, like yesterday?”

“You’re sure it’s not too much?”

“If it was, would I still be here?” Baz sat on the sofa. “Find the timer.” He didn’t see it on the coffee table, and figured someone must have returned it to the fridge.

Simon glanced around the kitchen, shaking his head as he came into the sitting room. He dropped to his knees to look under the sofa. “Ah! Here it is.” He pulled it out triumphantly and handed it to Baz. As Baz set it, Simon sat next to him, laying his hand palm up on Baz’s thigh.

Baz laced their fingers together with a happy sigh. They shifted against one another, settling in closer together. After a minute or so, Simon put an arm around him to pull Baz’s head to rest on Simon’s shoulder. The sweet scent of fresh baked bread and cinnamon filled Baz’s senses. He moved his leg to rest his knee on Simon’s thigh. Once, twice, gentle fingers carded through the long strands of his hair.

And then that fucking timer beeped loudly.

In unison, they pulled away from each other. Baz turned off the timer, and Simon moved to his end of the sofa.

“That was nice,” Simon said quietly, drawing his knees to his chest. He rested his cheek on his knee, watching Baz. “It was, right?”

Baz sighed sweetly, “The very best.”

Simon’s eyes closed and he turned his head to press into his knees. A moment later, his wings appeared and wrapped tightly around him.

A clear signal he needed time alone. Quietly Baz retreated to the kitchen to make more tea. He could understand Simon’s need for solitude while he processed his therapy session and their shared intimacy. 

Baz set the fresh mug of tea on the coffee table for Simon to drink when he was ready, then stepped outside to clear his own head. Penny and Simon needed a flat with a balcony. Like his flat. How much easier would these conversations be if they didn’t have Penny hovering all the time? Or so uncomfortable she had to leave her own home?

He stayed outside until Penny returned with dinner - curry from an Indian place around the corner. Simon seemed surprised to see him.

“I thought you’d gone home.”

“Why would I do that?” Baz tore off a piece of fresh, warm naan. His fangs descended, filling his mouth with saliva. “And eat dinner alone? No thank you.”

He’d done that for years at Watford - sneaking meals and snacks when no one could see him. Even in Hampshire with his family, he ate sparingly and preferred privacy. Eating alone reminded him of a time when he had no one to trust.

But now he had Penny and Simon, who knew about his fangs and never made a fuss about them. Well, Simon stared when he thought Baz wouldn’t notice, but Baz always noticed. He tried not to be self-conscious about it, and didn’t shield his mouth obsessively anymore.

After dinner he sat on the sofa with a sheaf of notes that needed revising as his first exams approached. Simon turned on the telly, keeping the volume low enough that it didn’t distract Baz.

And a quiet Wednesday evening passed.

\--------

“All I’m saying is group projects can kiss my arse.”

“Penelope Bunce!” Simon laughed with mock indignation. “How can you say such a thing?”

“Especially when your years at Watford were one group project after another with this numpty,” Baz added, pointing at Simon with his fork.

Penny’s eyes rolled so hard, they almost fell out. “You can’t reduce defeating the Insidious Humdrum, aka the greatest threat the world of mages has ever know, down to a ‘group project!’”

“I think I just did.”

Simon laughed into his glass and winked at Baz. Sexy little fucker, Baz thought with a grin of his own.

“So what’s on the agenda tonight, boys? I have to outline this project because Crowley knows no one else will. You two will be all right on your own, I suppose?”

“I’m sure we’ll find something to occupy ourselves,” Baz said, raising one eyebrow suggestively at Simon. That _blush_! How did he still manage it after all this time? “I have some reading to finish for my Literature class.”

“It’s not fair your fun class has you rereading your favourite books while my fun class has me dragging a group of idiots through a massive project worth one-quarter of our final marks.”

“Maybe you should have considered Sociology is not your average fun class. And who knows, maybe some of those idiots actually care about their marks. They _are_ paying for it, you know.”

Penelope grumbled as she rinsed her plate. “Have good, clean fun, you two!” she said cheerily as she retreated to her bedroom.

Simon exhaled slowly. His eyes bored into Baz, promising anything but good, clean fun. _Get it together, Basilton!_ Simon had a lot on his mind. His job. His therapy. Five minutes of intimacy with his boyfriend that could include, but was not limited to, touching, snogging, and something to do with Baz’s hair and possibly his hands or whatever the fuck he crossed off first.

All in good time. Keep calm…

Baz took his and Simon’s plates to the sink. “I have some reading to finish. What about you?”

Simon flopped onto the sofa, stretching his legs along the entire length. “More telly, I suppose. I’m exhausted.”

“Would you like a foot rub?” Baz asked. He saw the timer stuck to the fridge. “That can be our five minutes for the day.”

Simon tilted his head back to look at Baz. “Are you sure? That’s not really an ‘us’ thing. More of a ‘me’ thing.”

“I don’t think you should get to decide what is you and what is us. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.” Baz brought his wand and his novel to the sitting room, along with the timer.

“Are you sure? After they’ve been sweating in my trainers all day?”

Baz peeled off Simon’s socks and pointed his wand at Simon’s wiggling toes. “May I?”

Simon shrugged. “I suppose.” 

“ ** _Clean as a whistle_**. There, nothing to worry yourself over.” 

Simon lifted his feet to make room for Baz to sit. Baz set the timer and left it to rest on Simon’s legs so he could keep an eye on it. He ran his fingers over the tendons on top, then dug his thumbs into the ball of Simon’s left foot.

He worked up and down, taking care to massage each toe with his thumb and forefinger. Simon’s foot twitched and he suppressed a smile. “Git, that tickles.”

“How was I to know you had ticklish toes?” Baz smiled innocently. He ran his thumb over a mole in the arch of Simon’s foot making him jerk again.

“This is supposed to be relaxing!” Simon laughed, kicking Baz with his right foot.

“I can behave!” Baz’s heart fluttered, seeing that easy smile he loved so much. And even better when Simon wriggled his back against the sofa and his wings appeared. Baz’s favourite part of the day was when Penelope’s spell wore off. Absently, Simon lifted his shirt a little to rest a hand on the spade of his tail.

Baz continued on with a _relaxing_ foot rub until the timer had two and a half minutes left. He reached for Simon’s other foot, and immediately regretted his offer. Because now Simon’s left foot rested on Baz’s upper thigh, entirely too close to his _very_ interested cock.

And yet not close enough.

His hips twitched, aching to rub his half hard cock on literally any part of Simon. Apparently his depravity could still seek new depths. Thankfully the timer dinged before his brand new foot fetish could fully develop.

Automatically, Baz turned off the timer and Simon pulled his feet away. But not far. He rested them on the sofa cushion between them, leaning one knee on the back of the sofa while the other hung off the edge. His splayed legs looked like an invitation to wear Baz like a human blanket.

But Baz wasn’t going to think about that. He opened his book and tried to focus on the words swimming across the page.

“I can’t believe you’re reading Dracula. Again.”

“It’s a classic!”

“It’s cliché.”

Baz scoffed. “Excuse you, but it’s not a _cliché_ if it’s the first of its kind. It’s a _trendsetter_ and everything that came after it is cliché.”

Simon snorted and turned his attention back to his programme. Baz turned a page, to uphold the pretense of reading. But _thirst_ bubbled and churned inside, warring with arousal for attention. The sounds from the television weren’t enough to drown out the steady beat of Simon’s heart. And there was his femoral artery on display, almost like an offering for Baz. 

He could take one tiny nip. Let the sweet, hot liquid fill his mouth. And then fill his cock. He could crawl up Simon’s body, arch his back, grind his hips into -

“Does Dracula feeding make you thirsty too?”

The words sliced through Baz. “What?” he asked, faint and dazed. At the same time he realised his fangs had dropped. His hand flew to his mouth to cover them. “Fuck,” he growled as he launched himself down the hall, away from Simon. 

The door to the bathroom was closed, so he turned to Simon’s room and slammed the door. He rested against it, his whole body trembling. 

“Baz?” Simon asked. “Are you all right? You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s okay if you -”

“Shut the fuck up, Snow!” Baz slid to the ground, hoping his weight would be enough to bar the door. “Go away!”

“Erm, okay. But I’ll be - I’m here. If you need me.” A second later, Baz heard his footsteps fade.

He couldn’t have chosen a worse hiding place. Even if it was his only option. Fuck Penelope Bunce for needing the loo. He cradled his head in his hands, willing his body into submission. As if willing it had ever worked. As if it was even _possible_ when the spicy, cinnamon scent of Simon Snow was fucking _everywhere_ in this room. 

After long minutes of gulping in air that fucking _tasted_ like Simon, Baz gave up. He just didn’t have the strength for this.

He braced himself against the door for a moment, then stalked quickly down the hall. “I have to go,” he said, grabbing his scarf and jacket. 

“Baz, it’s all right, really. We can -”

“I need to feed and I can’t do that here.” His clipped words cut off any further protests. What could Simon possibly say in defence? He certainly wasn’t going to offer himself up as - no, those thoughts would get him nowhere. He stuffed his wand and book into his backpack and jerked the door open. 

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

The hesitant words made Baz pause on the threshold. He swallowed heavily. “I’ll bring a capri sun with me tomorrow.” He felt as much heard Simon’s sigh of relief and closed the door gently behind him.

The walk home had never dragged on for so long. He didn’t even take off his jacket for the first bag. He drank the second and third sitting on the floor of his kitchen. The fourth he took the time to heat and sipped it from a mug in place of a soothing cup of tea.

He sat on his balcony to finish the last of it. If only Simon were here with him… watching the few stars that shone through the city’s light pollution. But he wasn’t. Because he was broken. Because Baz was broken too. He drained his mug with a sigh, pushing away thoughts of the sad ways they matched. His belly sloshing with liquid, Baz moved gingerly to his bed, wishing in the smallest part of him that everything was different.

\--------

Simon (2:34 pm): You coming over later?  
Simon (2:34 pm): I’ve got fairy cakes! 

Simon (2:46 pm): With ducks on them  
Simon (2:46 pm): *dicks  
Simon (2:47 pm): They’re hideous and we couldn't give them to that hen party

Simon (2:50 pm): But they’re still yummy.

Simon (3:13 pm): I’m making cheese toasties with tomato soup. In case that influences your decision.

Simon (3:22 pm): Are you mad at me? Or embarrassed about yesterday?  
Simon (3:24 pm): You don’t have to be. You know your fangs don’t bother me, right?

Baz (3:36 pm): I was in a lecture, idiot. I’ll be over at 6.

\--------

This time Baz came prepared for a sleepover. Simon would be tripping over himself to make Baz feel welcome after the way they parted yesterday, and that meant a late night film and a kip on the sofa. At least this time he would have his own pillow.

Simon and Penny had matching ‘Are you all right’ expressions on their faces when Baz arrived. He rolled his eyes dramatically. “I’m fine. Just a pint low. It’s better now. Where are the fairy cakes?”

Penny opened the bakery box with a flourish. The pink icing dicks were indeed hideous, misshapen, and small. Baz smothered a laugh, but had to let it out when Penny began giggling.

“Aren’t they just the worst? I hope the bride doesn’t kill her maid of honour!”

“Wow, Simon, I had no idea you were such an artist with a piping bag.”

“Sod off,” Simon protested from the kitchen, “the dozen we gave her turned out all right. She liked them well enough, anyway.” 

Baz snagged a fairy cake, ignoring Simon’s complaints that they were for dessert. “Life is unexpected… so forth, and so on. I’m having a second one just to spite you.”

No one commented when Baz emptied his serving of blood into the bowl of tomato soup. He suspected that was precisely why Simon chose tomato in the first place. And no one mentioned yesterday’s debacle, which suited Baz perfectly.

During the Great British Bake-off, Penny’s phone chimed with text messages often enough that Simon finally begged her to silence it.

“Baz was right -”

“As I often am.”

“- and some of the others in my group project are indeed interested in putting in the proper effort.” She tapped rapidly on her phone and set it aside. “There, I silenced it.”

But she kept glancing at it, and smiled as she tapped out a few more messages. Simon and Baz made eye contact, wondering how a Sociology project could inspire such a look. After the Bake-off ended, Penny went right on tapping away at her phone, smiling on the way to her room.

Without her to act as buffer and chaperone, the strange parting from yesterday swelled up between them. And Baz made it six times worse by getting his pillow and his book.

“You’re going to read?” Simon asked as Baz settled back against his pillow on the sofa. “More Dracula?”

“Yes, I’m nearly done. They’re on the train back to Galatz.”

“You know I’ve not actually read it, right?”

Baz gasped. “The history of my people? How could you not?”

Simon grinned, but his words came out hesitantly. “It’s not going to make you… you won’t leave again, will you?”

“No,” Baz said quietly. Warmth spread through him, softening his tense edges. “I’m fine.”

“Good,” Simon said, looking back at the telly. “I like it when you’re here.”

Baz smiled to himself and turned another page. As the evening wore on, he wondered about the timer and whether Simon would be fetching it soon. He didn’t want to miss out, but also didn’t want to pressure Simon if he needed a day off from it. The way his list kept spinning around Baz’s head made it hard to concentrate on his book. Hair, kissing, weight, and hands. No, not hands. Something else. What did that _mean_? 

He tossed his finished book to the coffee table and hugged his pillow. The telly caught his eye but not well enough to focus on. Not when he had kisses to think of. Not when Simon’s feet and tail stretched across the sofa, nearly touching Baz’s thigh and reminding him of the Leavers Ball.

That first week after the Leavers Ball was the best of Baz’s life. Penny went to America to see Micah, and he spent all of it with Simon. Bodies entwined, lips puffy and slick. Hands fucking _everywhere_ except the places he wanted them most.

Then the honeymoon evaporated bit by bit. Penny returned, heartbroken over a sudden (to her) breakup with Micah. Baz and Simon spent more time outside of the flat, in full view of the public, meaning Simon had to hide his wings more and more often. He didn’t enjoy the staring from strangers either, and withdrew from Baz if anyone looked askance at them. Until even Penny’s presence felt like a damper on their affections. 

Without even realising it, they drifted apart physically. There was no moment to pinpoint - _Ah yes! Here is the day you stopped touching me!_ And each passing day made it harder and harder to draw back together.

Until now.

Simon rolled off the sofa and headed for the kitchen. Baz’s well fed veins hummed in excitement. What did he have in mind for today? Something from his list? He wanted Simon’s hands in his hair, their lips pressed together. He wanted Simon’s tail wrapped around his leg, his arm, his waist. Anywhere. He wanted… he just _wanted_... Anything Simon had to give him.

“Something simple today?” Simon asked as he sat next to Baz.

“Whatever you have in mind.” Baz set the timer and left it on the coffee table.

Simon scooted closer, bumping their knees together. One leg came up to rest across Baz’s legs. Slowly, his fingers traced over the ridge of Baz’s cheekbone, around the shell of his ear and into his hair. “I missed the feel of your hair,” Simon said quietly.

Before Baz could respond, Simon rested his head on Baz’s shoulder and draped an arm across his waist. He exhaled slowly and relaxed into the embrace. Carefully so as not to bump Simon’s wings, Baz slid his hand across Simon’s shoulders to hold him more closely. The cinnamon and spice scent that clung to Simon at all times wafted around them, making Baz lightheaded. 

He regretted the surplus of blood in his system, making an erection all too easy to come by. Especially when Simon’s tail snaked up Baz’s thigh. His fucking _tail_. Baz’s brain reeled and he forced himself to keep still, to not angle his hips to the side so his aching erection would brush up against it. 

But it was so close. So very fucking _close_. Would Simon freak out if he knew how hard Baz was? Simon told him once before that the spade of his tail was nearly as sensitive as his hands. He would _know_. There would be no hiding it.

Baz reached for Simon’s knee, using his elbow to subtly edge the tail away from his groin as he did. One step at a time. They’d worry about that level of intimacy when they’d moved further along. Perhaps when they got to ten minutes. Or fifteen. 

He smothered a groan at the thought. _Fifteen minutes_ felt like a pipe dream, some mystical unattainable goal. Fifteen minutes could mean actual _fucking_ if one were so inclined. And was Baz _ever_ so inclined.

Simon’s wings fluttered, and one bumped against their legs. Baz arched his foot and felt the barest whisper of the smooth, leathery wing against it. Guilt immediately followed for trying to sneak a feel when Simon didn’t freely offer it. He pulled his leg back as Simon retracted the wing.

“Sorry,” Simon whispered. “Sometimes they have a mind of their own.” He sat up, taking Baz’s hand as he did so that they were still touching in some way. But already Baz missed the warmth from along his side.

“I don’t mind.”

“Okay.” But Simon remained next to Baz instead of draped across him, and they finished the last minute holding hands. Simon squeezed his fingers and took the timer back to the kitchen. “Tea?”

“If you’re having some.”

They watched another hour of television, with Simon’s feet _almost_ touching Baz’s thigh, and Baz wishing he knew how to close that gap.

\--------

Simon slept late Saturday morning, giving Baz time to peruse his homework. Actually concentrating on it didn’t seem possible. He wrote a few notes about Dracula for Literature. And attempted reading the text for Music Appreciation.

But nothing held his attention like Simon Snow could. Especially when he came bleary-eyed from the bedroom, mussing his curls and without a fucking shirt on.

“There’s -” Baz coughed to clear his tight throat. “There’s coffee.”

“When are you going to make me tea for breakfast?”

“When I wake up in your bed.”

Simon’s vibrant flush spread halfway down his chest, making Baz roll his eyes.

“I mean you could take the sofa sometime.”

“Oh,” Simon squeaked. “Yes. I could. I’m sorry, I didn’t think of it. Is it uncomfortable?”

“Perhaps not as comfortable as mine, but it serves well enough.”

Simon nodded and poured his coffee with a grimace. “We’ll try that next Friday. I’d sleep anywhere for a good cup of tea.”

“Even my flat?”

The carafe slammed to the counter. Simon winced but thankfully it didn’t crack. “Erm… I don’t know. We’ve never… I hadn’t considered sleeping at yours.”

“You haven’t?”

Impossible as it seemed, Simon flushed an even _deeper_ shade of red. Baz watched it spread over his shoulders. “Maybe I have a little.”

Baz pursed his lips. “Perhaps not as often as I have though,” he said, his voice low and seductive.

Then Penelope fucking Bunce walked in with a cheery, “Good morning!” to break the mood. “Ooh fresh coffee! Basilton, dearest, if Simon doesn’t marry you, I will.”

And really, Simon’s spluttering nervousness was the perfect start to the day.

\--------

After lunch, Penelope surprised them both by saying she had to leave. “We’re meeting for this group project. I should be back around four.”

As soon as the door closed, Simon jumped to his feet. “We should go shopping. Groceries. Do you want to?”

Baz had hoped to spend some quiet time together. Specifically their five minutes touching. Without the threat of Penelope walking in, they had more options available to them. Early on in their falling apart, Penny seemed to exacerbate the situation. And yet now her absence hindered their reconciliation.

His brain hurt too much to puzzle it out. 

“Can you hide my wings for me?”

“Of course,” he said with a sigh. He tapped the wings with his wand. “ ** _Now you see me, now you don’t_** ,” he said, emphasising the last with a sinking feeling as the red wings melted away.

Baz loved it when it was their turn to do the shopping. Simon examined fruit as if the answers to all the world's problems lay in the pile of oranges. Then he juggled three of them with a grin and set them in their basket. He oh-so-politely murmured “excuse me” and “pardon me” all through a knot of old ladies that tittered and giggled at the adorable young man. And he snuck in, with a complete lack of subtlety, a packet of Baz’s favourite chocolate Hobnobs with a wink. As if he wasn’t going to eat half of them himself.

He wished he could reach out and grab Simon’s hand. Send a signal to the world that this bright, beautiful man was his and his alone. He wanted to kiss the brow that wrinkled as Simon very carefully considered one brand of hummus over another. He wanted to be able to say “our flat” and “our dinner” out loud for everyone to hear.

But Simon didn’t want any of that. A single, considering stare from a young woman that lasted a beat too long had him moving a half step away from Baz. Neither of them mentioned it on the walk back to Simon’s flat.

\--------

The hour grew later and it became more and more difficult for Baz to make excuses to stay. 

Simon had spent the entire afternoon with one distraction after another to make their five minutes of touching for the day a little too inconvenient, until Baz had to silently admit that maybe Simon just didn’t want to.

He thought of Simon’s smile, of the sparkle in his blue eyes. The way he danced in the kitchen while cooking dinner, and the annoyed flare of his wings when Penny teased him for an abominable shimmy.

Yes, he missed his five minutes. 

But the day could shine brightly even without it.

He blew a kiss to Simon and walked home alone with a skip in his step.

\--------

Simon (10:10 am): What time you coming over?

Baz (10:12 am): I’m catching up on homework. You’re too distracting for words. After lunch. Let’s say 2?

Simon (10:13 am): Perfect

\--------

Baz stood in the light of his fridge, contemplating whether or not he should drink a dose before going to Simon’s. He was on edge, had been for days really, and regretted his missed opportunity to go hunting over the weekend.

A knock at the door broke his reverie.

Seeing Simon Snow with his gorgeous half smile and his hands sheepishly shoved into pockets sent a bolt of lust through Baz, telling him instantly that yes he was indeed dancing on the edge of feral just now. If he knew what was good for him, he’d suck down _two_ bags of blood.

“What are you doing here?” Baz asked, grinning widely at _Simon Snow_ here in his flat. “I was just coming to see you.”

“I know,” Simon grinned. “I thought this would be a fun surprise.”

“You want to hang out here?” Baz stepped back to let him in. “I mean, that’s lovely. Just unexpected. Come in.” 

Simon hung his jacket on the peg by the door and shook out his wings, looking around the flat he rarely visited.

It was considerably smaller than Penny and Simon’s flat, and yet crammed with an equal or greater amount of possessions. He kept everything as tidy as he could, but there just wasn’t _space_ for everything. His father had given him a sofa that was sturdy and comfortable while also twice as big as the space allowed. Bookshelves lined one wall, but were insufficient for holding all of Baz’s books. More books sat in the unused chairs of his small kitchen table, and even in one of the kitchen cupboards. 

As Simon went to sit, his wing knocked into a framed photograph, which fell into another photograph, sending them both to the floor. As he apologised and righted them, he almost broke the lamp standing next to the sofa. “Sorry. So sorry.”

And Baz remembered why Simon never came here.

Gingerly he sat on the sofa, bouncing a little as though testing it. “Hm… you’re probably right. More comfortable.”

“Stretch out,” Baz said. “Make yourself at home. I’ll get us some tea?”

But Simon looked uncomfortable with the idea of putting his feet on clean cushions that were so unlike his worn and faded second-hand sofa, and instead perched on the edge. When Baz finally joined him with two mugs of tea, he kicked his own shoes off and sat cross-legged on his end. It worked to help Simon relax. He took his tea with a smile, settling in deeper against the cushions.

“It’s so cosy here. Peaceful.”

Baz hummed in agreement. “Better for getting my work done, that’s for sure.” 

“Are you saying I’m distracting?” Simon preened a little, flexing his wings in the process and hitting the glass top of the coffee table with an audible _ping_. He winced and the wing jerked back to tuck in tightly behind him. “I guess I shouldn’t have let them out.”

“I don’t care. Break it. It’ll give me an excuse to pick out my own coffee table, instead of one Malcolm and Daphne gave to me.” He paused thoughtfully. “Maybe we could shop for one together.”

Simon set his cup carefully on the coffee table, far from the reach of his wing. “I, erm, actually came here to apologise.”

“For what?”

“For yesterday.” Baz’s confusion seemed to feed Simon’s. “We didn’t… you know… our five minutes.”

“Oh,” Baz nodded, his wrinkled brow smoothing out. “Right, of course. No, that’s all right. I didn’t mind. I figured you needed a break or something.”

Simon bobbed his head, looking around the sitting room. “This has been good. But also weird. And… overall it’s good, right?”

“ _I_ think so.”

There was a long pause where Simon bit at his thumbnail and stared off into space. He stood to pace, but of course Baz didn’t have room for that. He squeezed around the sofa, narrowly avoiding the music stand in the corner. Finally he sighed. “Can you hide my wings for me?”

“Certainly,” Baz said quietly. The spell burned on his tongue, and he hated that Simon had to hide a part of himself here, in Baz’s home. It was his safe place, and he wanted it to be the same for Simon.

Moving more freely now, Simon wandered the room, touching photographs and the random knick-knacks Baz had collected over a lifetime. “I want to kiss you,” he said with his back to Baz. “I miss it. Probably most out of everything.” He returned to the sofa, purposefully keeping his eyes off Baz.

“I - I miss it too.”

Simon twisted the hem of his shirt in his hands and Baz caught a glimpse of the tail wrapped around his waist. “I’m not like I was, you know,” he said, resting a hand under his shirt, covering the spade. With more confidence in his voice, he said, “Maybe this is a good time. In your flat, with my wings hidden.”

It hit Baz like a flash. “Do you think I’m not comfortable in your home?” 

“No!” But the flush of his cheeks said otherwise. “I - just - I remember. That first - our first kisses. In your room.”

And Aleister fucking Crowley did Baz remember them too. Simon on all fours above him, silently making Baz beg for it, work for it, long for it.

“Yes,” Baz said, his dry throat struggling to form words. “I remember.”

“So I thought if we were here… with your things... We can recreate that - that moment.”

“Yes,” he said breathily. Baz shot to his feet, holding his hand out for a moment. Oh. He pulled his hand back abruptly. “I don’t have a timer. Wait, my phone. It probably has -

“I brought it.” Simon’s flush returned as he dug in his pocket for their usual timer. “Just in case. I know your kitchen isn’t much of anything.”

No, it wasn’t. Aside from the bread and jam he had for breakfast, and his bags of blood in the fridge, it barely qualified as a kitchen. “Well then,” he offered his hand to Simon once again, “shall we?”

Simon’s warm fingers laced with his and he let himself be pulled to Baz’s small bedroom. Like the rest of the flat, it had more furniture than it did space. The queen size bed took up most of the room, and now it seemed even larger, given the intimacies that were about to occur. They squeezed past the wardrobe and laid down side by side on top of the fluffy down duvet.

Baz set the timer and dropped it behind him on the bed. Simon pulled Baz closer, chest to chest, although Baz was careful to keep space between their hips. The steady rhythm of Simon’s heart beating made Baz’s mouth water. Their lips drew closer together at an achingly slow pace, and Baz tried not to think of the seconds ticking away.

It had been _months_ since their last kiss - those chaste goodbyes that were nothing more than a pressing of lips together. Even longer since he felt the hot swipe of Simon’s tongue across his own.

He swallowed Simon’s moans, drinking them in to feed his soul more fully than any amount of blood could ever manage.

“Baz…” Simon sighed, dragging his lips along Baz’s jaw, down his neck. “I missed the feel of you… your body heavy against mine.” He heard the deep inhale of Simon taking in his scent. “You smell so good.”

Simon smelled like a fucking feast. Yeast and sugar, the warmth of freshly baked bread. The sweet scent of blood beating under the tender skin of his neck. Baz licked along the throbbing pulse, but jerked away when the sharp pierce of his fangs descending broke through the haze of arousal.

“Baz, your fangs,” Simon said huskily, his pupils blown wide. His thumb traced over Baz’s lips, lifting one side to see his fang. Baz froze, afraid to shake him off. Afraid of cutting his thumb. Afraid of the possible well of blood at the tip if he did. Simon’s hand cupped his cheek, his fingers tangled in Baz’s hair. And his lips - his lips covered Baz’s again and his tongue playfully darted against one fang and then the other.

“Simon, you can’t.”

“I already am.”

Baz wondered if it was unconscious or on purpose - Simon’s fingers digging into the nape of Baz’s neck, in the small indentations that were the mark of his curse. The bite that turned him. The only scar Baz ever had that never healed. Simon caressed the spot as his tongue continued its teasing.

His kiss turned harsh and eager as sticky sweet venom coated Baz’s fangs. This new development began towards the end of June, and Baz didn’t know what to think of it. Was it somehow involved in making new vampires? He’d nearly forgotten… after all, he hadn’t had to think about it in so long.

Simon lapped it up, moaning into Baz’s mouth. “Fucking hell, I forgot that tingly sweet…” He laughed breathily against Baz’s lips. “My tongue is tingly and a little numb.”

It slammed Baz all over again, the guilt and fear that Simon could be Turned with a simple kiss. “Fuck, Simon!” Baz hissed, rolling away and covering his mouth. As he shimmied through the cramped space between the bed and the antique desk in the corner, the timer rang out.

Simon reached for it, knocking it to the ground. His awkward search under the bed gave Baz time to get away. To the bathroom, the only available space with a door. Seconds later, Simon knocked loudly.

“Baz, are you all right? I’m sorry. I was just - I don’t mind about your fangs. Really.”

He’d forgotten completely. Simon’s smile, the timer, the chance to kiss him once again… it distracted him from the blood he needed. And now look at him. The harsh lighting illuminated the unnatural grey of his skin in the ornate, chipped mirror. He bared his fangs, hissing at himself, and hating the shiny glint of venom still dripping freely. He opened the mirrored cabinet, just so he didn’t have to see his reflection anymore. 

Splashing water on his face and rinsing his mouth out didn’t feel like enough so he brushed his teeth until his gums ached and his fangs retracted.

Finally feeling calm enough, he adjusted his shirt and smoothed down his hair. Taking one last fortifying breath, he opened the door, determined to face Simon with the last dregs of his dignity.

“Hey,” Simon said quietly, setting the book he’d been flipping through on the coffee table. “Better now?”

“Yes. Somewhat.” Baz cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. If I overreacted.” He ran his tongue over his teeth.

“No! You don’t need to apologise. Really. I shouldn’t have…”

“Let’s just call it even and move on, yes?”

Simon plucked at his t-shirt hem, looking so very _young_ in that moment. “It was good, though, right?” He peered through his lashes at Baz. “Up until…”

“Yes. It was… It was really good.” Baz went to the fridge and emptied a bag of blood into a mug. He sat on the sofa, as near as he dared, and smiled. “Better than I remembered.”

“Sometimes I miss sharing a bed. That heavy weight of you, warm against my side.”

“I’m rarely warm,” Baz said, staring down at his mug. Like a barbarian - he hadn’t even heated it up.

“Warm enough,” Simon grinned, ducking his head to try and meet Baz’s eye. “Enough to remind me that I’m part of something. That I’m not alone.”

Slowly, Baz reached out and traced the back of Simon’s hand lightly.

Simon turned his hand and caressed Baz’s palm and up to the tips of his fingers in one smooth movement. Abruptly he stood and stepped back. “Erm… So Penny’s got a thing tonight. With her group. And... I have some chicken marinating. If you want to come back to mine… we could have dinner together.”

Back to Simon’s space, where he knew Simon felt safe and whole. How could Baz ever want to be anywhere else? 

“Let me get another capri sun.”

\--------

Baz buried his nose in his pillow and marvelled that five minutes of Simon Snow in his bed could transfer his scent so well. He finally had good reason to appreciate his strong sense of smell. He inhaled deeply one more time then dragged himself to the shower to begin his day.

Longest fucking day of the week.

Somehow he made it through one lecture after another, until he could rest at his favourite picnic table. He laid his head on his folded hands with a heavy sigh. Curse his fucking night seminar, and this whole horrible day. He’d been slacking off on his daily intake of blood and wasn’t sure he could make it all the way to the weekend to properly fix the dietary imbalance. He hated having to hunt in the city.

At least dinner with Simon had gone well last night, as did their card game after. Simon’s smile, the flutter of his wings, the mock indignation when he lost… Baz sorted through all those memories to cheer his poor, lonely heart.

Until a shadow fell over him.

“You look like you could use a pick-me-up,” came the sweetest voice he’d ever heard.

“Simon!” Baz said happily, sitting up with a start. “What are you doing here?”

Grinning like a fool (but the fool Baz loved best), Simon handed him a cup labeled ‘candy bar coffee’ in block letters. “I brought you a pick-me-up.” He saluted with his own cup. 

Baz laughed when he saw the label ‘sensible tea’ through Simon’s fingers. He sipped at the sweet ambrosia. “Crowley, you are a lifesaver, Simon. Mondays are the worst. No more night seminars after this.”

“I didn’t want to miss a day.” Simon pulled the timer from his pocket, waved it playfully, then set it on the table between them. “Last Monday was a bummer.”

“Oh.” Baz’s heart fluttered and his grin widened. “Wonderful idea. What did you have in mind?” He tapped the timer to set five minutes.

Simon glanced around the mostly empty grounds. “Well… here in public. I’m - I’m not really ready for something - “

“No, that’s fine. But…”

He understood when Simon’s legs pressed on either side of his legs under the table. “I also thought it would be good for us to talk about some things. My list.”

“All right,” Baz said, tapping the timer to start.

“That fourth thing, that I crossed out...” He twisted his cup round and round, and nibbled his lip in a way that distracted Baz in a most enticing way. But he snapped to attention when Simon said, “It’s about my wings. I didn’t want to talk with Dr Carter about them so I scratched it out…”

Baz swallowed heavily. “Are you still thinking about getting rid of them?”

“Actually, I called Dr Wellbelove.” Before Baz could even form a whole thought, Simon continued, “I’ve told him I just can’t do it.”

His tail twined up Baz’s leg, resting the spade on his thigh. Baz’s breath hitched and his cock started to thicken. “O-o-kay,” he stuttered out.

Simon rubbed his face and stared at his tea. “I know I don’t look like the boy you grew up with. Or the boy you fell in love with. But… the wings - they’ve saved me twice now and… I guess I’m fond of them? I can’t just let them go.”

“Oh, thank Crowley,” Baz sighed heavily, his body sagging with relief.

“What?”

“That’s wonderful news. That you’ve made a decision. And that you’ve decided to keep the wings. And - and the tail.” He almost squeaked the last when the tail tightened against him.

Simon’s frown confused him, though. “You like my wings?”

“Mm, very much so.”

“But you…” Simon leaned back, considering Baz’s face. 

“Simon, you can _fly_. That’s absolutely brilliant. Why would I want you to get rid of them?”

“But you’re always pulling away! You - you touch them and it’s like they burn!”

“Because you act like you don’t want me to! You pull them around you like a protective wall to shut me out, or tuck them in tight when they might otherwise brush against me. I thought you didn’t like it.”

“Baz… what the fuck?” Simon shook his head. “Are you serious right now?”

Laughter, warm and pure, flowed out of Baz. “Simon…” He rested his fingertips on the spade, tugging gently until it rested over the slight bulge in his trousers. “If I had a capri sun or two in me…” His eyes drifted close as he rocked his hips slowly against the spade. “These five minutes could go so much differently at just the _thought_ of your wings.”

Simon made a choked sound. “Baz,” he rasped quietly.

“Oh, Simon…” he moaned.

Their eyes met, and Baz’s body made a valiant effort at hardening further. But there just wasn’t enough blood in Baz. “Fuck,” he hissed angrily. He shoved the spade away, and felt the tail unwind from his leg.

“Baz, I’m sorry -”

The timer beeped loudly at them. Baz slammed his hand down over it, to stop it. “Don’t. It’s fine.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Simon drew his legs back. “So, erm… about my wings…” 

Baz’s ire at himself melted away as Simon’s face softened into an embarrassed flush. “I’m all ears, Snow.”

“I was thinking that tomorrow… you could spend our five minutes…” The words came so slowly, that Baz fought the urge to shake them out of Simon. “...getting used to them.” He bit his lip and twisted his cup again. “What do you think?”

“Getting used to them?”

“Erm… touching them? W-w-with my shirt off? So you can see, erm, where they join my spine?”

All of Baz’s breath left on a whoosh. “Simon… I would love to.”

“Really?” His eyes widened with hope. _There_ was the quirk of his lips Baz loved best.

“I can hardly wait. Should I drink a capri sun beforehand, so you can see how much I like it?”

Simon spluttered on his tea. “Baz! You can’t just _say_ something like that!” His eyes scanned their surroundings again, but with a happy sparkle in them. “Yes,” he whispered so quietly, only Baz’s vampire ears could have possibly heard.

Baz winked and sipped at his own drink. “Thank you for the coffee. I was too tired to get my own today.”

“You’re welcome. I got quite the compliment buying it for you.”

“Did you?” A spike of jealousy hit Baz hard and fast, and then evaporated away. Simon was _his_ and he knew he had nothing to worry about.

“Yeah, the woman behind me. Said she wished her boyfriend would get her a coffee every now and again. That he’s a great, useless lump and she’d snag me if she could.”

Baz’s eyes narrowed. 

“But I told her my boyfriend doesn’t share so…” Simon sipped at his tea, his ear pinking at the tips.

Baz’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “That’s really what you said? Your boyfriend?” Butterflies danced in his stomach, threatening to explode out over the entire table.

Simon gave him a half-shrug, as if openly admitting he had a _boyfriend_ in _public_ wasn’t some momentous occasion.

He leaned forward eagerly. “What did she say to that?” He hoped her devastation was complete. Simon Snow’s delectable arse belonged to Baz.

“Nothing much. Got a look, though.”

“A look?”

“A lascivious one.”

“Lascivious? Ooh big word, Simon Snow.” Baz drank his coffee, giddy with pride for his sweet, adorable, ridiculous boyfriend.

“I know some big words. Discombobulated. Equilateral. Exposition. Reciprocity.”

“That is the weirdest collection of words I’ve ever heard.”

Simon grinned at him. “I’m getting a word-a-day email. You and Penny have made me feel lazy, with all your uni work. Can’t go getting stupid, now can I?”

They shared a laugh that warmed Baz more than his coffee ever could.

\--------

Baz did not expect the heavy scent of pork roast when he entered Simon’s flat. When did Simon have time to make a roast on a Tuesday evening?

Nor did he expect a candlelit table complete with floral centerpiece. “Did you get flowers?” he asked as Simon came out of the kitchen to greet him.

“Hi, you’re right on time,” Simon said, smiling proudly as he set the roast on the table. “Yeah, on my way home from work. Sit, I’ll just get the potatoes and green beans.”

He also did not expect the table to be set for only two. “Is Penny not joining us?”

“Erm, no… and it might be a good idea for us to do something nice for her. She wasn’t thrilled about me kicking her out tonight.”

“You didn’t have to send her away.”

“Well… I didn’t want her around if we’re going to - you know, with my wings.” He rolled his shoulders but his wings stayed hidden.

Baz’s mouth flooded with saliva anyway. “Just what do you think is going to happen with your wings?” And why the fuck did his words come out so softly?

“You’re going to touch them.” Simon’s eyes flicked up to his, and Baz’s heart stuttered as the moment lengthened. Then Simon cleared his throat and the charged atmosphere gentled. “But after we eat.” He handed Baz a mug. “For your capri sun, so you don’t have to slurp from the pouch.”

“I didn’t bring one.” Baz wasn’t prepared for the hurt look that crossed Simon’s face. “No it’s - I don’t need it. I drank my fill earlier.” He reached across the table and brushed their fingertips together briefly. “I’m sorry I let my thirst get out of hand.”

“Okay. It’s all right.” Simon smiled as he spread a napkin across his lap. Apparently he _did_ have manners when he tried. “Let’s eat then, shall we?”

Why not? Baz loved this slow form of torture - Simon’s eyes glued to his mouth with each bite taken, a slack-jawed look on his face that screamed, “Kiss me blind with those lips.” All the blood Baz consumed earlier pooled heavily in his cock, making it ache for release as it pressed against his zip.

Finally, _fucking finally_ Simon wiped his mouth one last time and said huskily, “We can save dessert for later, yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

Grinning, Simon grabbed the timer and led Baz to his bedroom. Baz didn’t know which was more surprising - that Simon had tidied up his clothes, or that he lit two candles on his dresser before sitting on the bed. 

“Is this okay?” Simon asked, patting the spot next to him.

“I - yes. This is…” Baz sat next to him and smiled gently. “You went to so much effort for today.”

“This is really important to me.”

Earnest blue eyes searched his, and Baz got a little choked up saying, “Me too.”

Simon nodded and knelt in the centre of the bed with his back to Baz. “Are you ready, then?” 

Baz set the timer and pressed start. “Ready.”

Without another word, Simon pulled his t-shirt off and shook out his wings. For a few seconds, Baz stared as they flared out wide, then came to rest against Simon’s back. Baz inched closer and reached a tentative hand out to trace along the knobs of Simon’s spine. About an inch or two away on either side, silvery scar tissue edged along the join where skin met silky, red leather. He shivered when Baz caressed the right side, down to the lower edge of his wing. 

Closer, he needed to be closer. He bracketed Simon’s hips with his thighs and rested his forehead on the nape of Simon’s neck. One slow inhale, one heavy exhale. _Fuck_ , how deliciously warm Simon felt under his fingertips.

He sat back to run his hands up Simon’s spine and down over the heavy ridge at the top of each wing. The leather was cooler than he expected, given how warm Simon’s body ran. Delicate fingers trailed down the web of spidery thin veins and over the small swells of cartilage that provided the framework.

And there - the thick artery that provided nourishment. Did it even have a name? The pulse beat steadily under Baz’s fingertips and his own stuttered to match its rhythm. Apparently feeding did nothing to calm his inner storm when confronted with every wet dream he’d had since the wings first appeared.

His breath burned on every exhale and his mouth filled with fangs, with saliva, with venom. He wanted to sink them here, at this thick junction of pulsing artery in the centre of Simon’s back. Lust, hot and thick, clouded his thoughts and he saw it - how easy it would be to pin Simon with his superior strength, to force his wings down and open him up to Baz’s attack.

He shook his head violently. No… he could never... he didn’t want to _attack_ Simon. He wanted him pliant and soft, opening up to Baz freely with a soft purr of welcome. He wanted his skin flush and -

The timer dinged and Baz’s body moved off the bed before he even realised what was happening.

“No,” he hissed, cursing the conditioning that forced him away. “Simon,” he moaned, coming back to himself. His hands flew up to cover his eyes and he turned towards the wall. “Simon, fuck, I’m so sorry… so sorry…”

His blood ran like a river of fire, setting all of him alight, screaming for the soothing caress of Simon’s fingers. He _needed_ it, all of it - the heat of his mouth, the sweet scent of yeasty bread, Simon’s trembling body under him taking it, taking it, _taking it_.

With a broken groan, Baz ran from the flat.


	3. Chapter 3

Baz groaned as his body came awake. Dimly, he became aware of the mussed duvet below him.

Home.

He was in his flat. In his own bed. He sat up, rubbing his gritty eyes. What happened? He vaguely remembered Simon. And running. Feeding recklessly. And somehow making it here.

Mud, sweat, and (ugh) blood, stained the duvet. And his clothes. Baz rubbed at his face and hoped it wasn’t smeared with blood as well. His bare feet hit the floor and he stared at them in confusion for a moment. How did they get so filthy?

Oh, he’d probably left his shoes at Simon’s last night. What a fucking mess.

In the bathroom, Baz grimaced at his reflection and the well-fed glow of his skin. He splashed water on his face to clean himself up, deciding he needed strong coffee before he could manage a shower. He relieved himself, washed his hands, and went to the kitchen to make a fresh pot.

And found Simon Snow humming over the toaster.

“Simon,” Baz said, surprised into further silence. Damn, he should have changed out of his stained, rumpled clothes.

“Morning,” Simon responded without turning around. “There’s tea for you. Sorry I didn’t know how to work the coffee maker.” The toast popped, startling them both. Simon set it on a plate and spread blackberry jam on it.

“Thank you.” Baz sat and inhaled the delicious, fragrant tea before taking a sip. “Mm… it’s perfect. When did you get here?”

Simon gestured at the sofa, laden with sheets and a throw blanket, as he set the toast in front of Baz. “Well, I spent half the night looking for you. Around three I came here to check if you’d made it home, found you in bed so… I slept on the sofa.”

“Oh.” The nest of sheets and a throw blanket filled Baz with a strange mix of shame and joy. He wasn’t really set up for guests because… well, because no one ever stayed over. But if Simon wanted to make this a regular thing, Baz could get a special blanket and pillow just for him. 

Until they were ready for a single bed. His cheeks flushed at the thought of waking up to Simon once again.

“I wanted to make sure you woke up all right. I also brought your things back.”

By the front door sat Baz’s shoes, backpack, and jacket. Baz scrunched up his toes in embarrassment. He’d been so panicked last night that he’d left without his fucking _shoes_. The dirty stains on his feet deepened his embarrassment, and he cursed his well-fed veins for flushing his cheeks so obviously.

“Erm… thanks for bringing them.” Baz gulped the tea to clear the thickening of his throat. “I - I’m so sorry for running out like that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Simon sighed heavily and ran a hand through his curls. “Do you think we apologise too much?”

Baz’s brows drew down in confusion. “How do you apologise too much?”

“I don’t know… I guess it feels like we… just keep hurting each other? Doing these stupid, _stupid_ things that need apologising for.” Blue eyes blinked at him for a moment, then dropped to the table. “You know,” Simon continued softly, “Dr Carter said she’d do a couple’s session with us any time. I know she wouldn’t mind if you -”

“No, absolutely not.” Baz’s cup hit the table with a clang. He winced and shook his head. “I can’t. We _can’t_ ,” he pleaded. 

“Please, Baz, I think it would be good for us. She’s really good at helping me with what I want to say and… It’s safe enough. The bakery is closed, there are no customers. And Maris is gone so the office is empty. There’s no one to hear us. Please, just come with me this once.”

“Simon… I appreciate you asking me but I can’t. I don’t want - I can’t take that time away from you. You need a place to talk without me listening.”

“But it’s _you_ I want to talk to. I just need a little help with it.”

“And how am I supposed to talk with Dr Carter about my - issues - without bringing up… you know…” He gestured to his mouth.

“What? That you’re a vampire?” Simon looked confused. “She already knows that.”

An icy chill filled Baz’s veins and he froze in place. “What.”

Simon laughed - a nervous, choppy thing. His shoulders twitched, and Baz wondered if he longed for his wings to hide and protect him. “She knows. I’ve told her every last thing about myself - how could I leave out dating a vampire?”

“You _told_ her?!” Baz leapt to his feet, his chair slamming the wall behind him. “What the ever-loving- _fuck_ , Snow!” 

“I’m sorry!” Simon stood and held his hands out defensively. The placating gesture only infuriated Baz further. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal. She doesn’t care. Americans are different about vampires. And it’s -”

“I don’t fucking _care_ about whether she cares or not.” Baz’s hands covered his face, because he absolutely fucking cared - his life was on the line with that information. “She could tell someone, Simon!”

“But she won’t! There’s confidentiality and -”

Baz shoved the table in anger, making Simon jump backwards. “You fucking numpty - you don’t get it. It wasn’t your secret to tell!” Words wouldn’t come, and it didn’t matter because his throat closed up anyway.

“It’s my secret too, now,” Simon yelled back. “Our lives are - we’re _together_ in this!”

“Together? We’re not together in this! One word, Simon! One _fucking_ word in the wrong ear and my life could be over! Can you say the same?”

Simon deflated completely. His eyes dropped to the floor and he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“You know what? You’re right. We _are_ always apologising for the stupid shit we do to each other. But this one…” Baz shook his head and wrapped his arms around himself. “This one really hurt.” He wiped at his eyes. “I want you to leave.”

Pressing his lips together, Simon nodded. His eyelids fluttered, and Baz wondered if tears would soon fall. He couldn’t handle that right now, couldn’t possibly offer comfort to Simon when his own soul felt fragile as spun sugar. Tears would only dissolve him faster.

He yanked the door open, eyes firmly on the floor to avoid Simon’s. For a moment Simon hovered on the threshold. But then, without a word, he walked away.

Seconds later, Baz shattered his mug against the kitchen wall. The plate of toast followed.

\--------

During his long shower, Baz wondered if couples counselling could fix this shit - the way he and Simon always seemed to just miss the other’s intentions. He shampooed his hair a second time to be sure _all_ the muck came out, and imagined himself telling Dr Carter about the heavy thirst inside him, and how it drove his lust for Simon out of control. Would she nod knowingly? Give him tips and tricks on how to manage it? Stare in confusion, or worse, in horror? Would she warn Simon away from someone so dangerous?

It was one thing to _hear_ about some vague vampire boyfriend. It was a whole other thing to _see_ the vampire boyfriend and listen to him describe a fantasy where he pinned Simon to the bed and drank deeply at his neck while his wings cradled Baz ever closer.

Fuck if those thoughts didn’t send the fresh blood straight to his cock. Instead of putting the conditioner in his hair, Baz smeared it along his hard prick. The blood he’d consumed last night flooded his veins like fire, making him more alive than he’d been in weeks. And all of it pooled in a cock long denied its play.

He let images of Simon - shirtless, kneeling on the bed last night - sharpen in his mind. Slowly his hand coasted up and down his cock. He moaned softly as trills of pleasure cascaded down his spine. Simon giving him that wicked smile. Simon a little punch-drunk on venom, begging him for more. His hand sped up and he braced himself against the wall. Simon’s tail wrapped around his leg or his arm, pulling him in. Simon’s wings wrapped around them, trapping Simon’s warm yeasty scent. Simon’s moans reverberating through Baz’s body. His own moans echoed in the shower as he gave his bollocks a hard squeeze.

“ _Fuck, yes_...” he hissed as he came on the floor of his shower. He stared at the mess as it washed away, feeling bewildered and empty.

He finished his shower quickly and found clean clothes to wear. The fitted shirt and linen trousers went a long way to making him feel like himself. The horrible stains on the duvet resisted both **clean as a whistle** and **out, out damned spot**. Perhaps his heart just wasn’t in it. 

The theory gained traction when neither his mug nor his plate mended with **as you were**. He swept up the broken pieces and binned them, too tired to care about something so inconsequential.

Instead, he brewed a new mug of tea and sat, clean and refreshed, in the pile of sheets Simon left on his sofa. He pulled out his phone to text Simon, even though he never checked his phone during his sessions.

Apologies and explanations swirled through his thoughts, but nothing felt like the right thing to say. Yes, he’d been angry, but he had good reason to be. He guarded this secret carefully, always in fear the Coven might learn of it and he’d be left wandless and defanged. Might as well be dead then. So what if there was a confidentiality agreement between doctor and patient? Baz well knew how words could be manipulated around such constraints.

Baz (4:35 pm): How long has she known?

Did it really matter? Whether she knew eight months or eight weeks or eight days ago, she still held that information. And she could destroy Baz with it.

He suddenly wished he had something stronger than tea to drink.

Baz (4:42 pm): I’m sorry.  
Baz (4:42 pm): That I didn’t go with you.  
Baz (4:43 pm): For yelling at you.

He sniffed away tears. Shaky fingers tapped at the screen. _That really fucking hurt._ His thumb hovered over ‘send’.

With a broken sigh, he deleted the text and tossed his phone to the side. He tapped his tea with his wand and muttered, “ ** _Water into wine_** ,” but of course nothing happened and he was left to drink a cup of tea that did fuck-all for soothing his nerves.

Baz (5:08 pm): I drained 2 dogs last night.  
Baz (5:08 pm): And a cat.  
Baz (5:09 pm): And a few squirrels.

He stared at the screen, already regretting sending those messages. The stark reality slapped him in the face, and he couldn’t stop himself from making it worse.

Baz (5:12 pm): I don’t even know if they were someone’s pet or not.  
Baz (5:13 pm): The dogs and cat. Not the squirrels. Who even keeps squirrels as pets?

Tears burned in his eyes but he refused to let them fall. These were realities he lived with daily. Crying wouldn’t help.

Baz (5:19 pm): I want to say I’d never hurt you. But I can’t promise that.

Baz (5:21 p.m.): And now Dr Carter knows it too.

_That really scares me,_ he typed out. The words blurred, and Baz dropped his phone to bury his face in the sheets Simon left behind. The scent of fresh baked bread and that indefinable _something_ should have comforted Baz but instead it drowned him in a heavy tide of loneliness.

Maybe tears would help after all.

\--------

“Baz?”

The sound jolted Baz awake and he fell off the sofa. “What? Simon?” He sat up, looking around at his living room as if he’d never seen it before. He wiped at his mouth and tried to neaten his hair. “What time is it? Why are you - is everything okay?” He got to his feet and tugged his shirt into place. “Why are you here?”

Simon stood uncertain by the door, a shopping bag in hand. “I finished with Dr Carter. I wanted to see you.” He patted his pocket. “I got your texts.”

“Oh.” Baz closed his eyes for a moment, and scrubbed at his face. Those fucking texts! He should have gotten sloshed so he could blame them on alcohol. “Erm… do you want tea? What time is it? Should we get dinner?”

“Maris gave me some rosemary and feta rolls. And honey twists.” He set his bag on the kitchen table. “And I picked up some roasted chicken and veg from Luciana’s. I thought we could eat here. Talk about some things without driving Penny away again.”

_Pull it together, Basilton!_ “Yes, of course. Good idea.” Baz stepped around Simon to get two glasses. “I’ll get us some water, if you’ll get the plates.”

Simon balled up the plastic bag and opened the rubbish bin. He froze, staring inside. “Did you break your mug?” 

“It was an accident.” Baz grabbed the bag, binned it, and slammed the lid shut. “Get some plates.”

“Was it really?”

Baz rubbed his forehead wearily. He waited until the first glass had filled with water before sighing, “No.”

“Okay.” Simon pulled two plates from the cupboard and began serving up his food.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Well, Simon ate. Baz mostly picked at his chicken while his stomach churned with nerves. Fuck his fangs for dropping now. He pushed his plate away, hoping the smell would fade and they would retract. “How did your session go?” he finally asked to break the unnerving silence.

“Well…” Simon wiped his mouth with his napkin. “We talked about you. And I was confused about everything. And then I left and saw your texts and was even more confused.”

Baz flushed and wished he had a response.

Simon quirked a half smile at him. “This may come as a bit of a shock to you… but... Dr Carter says I have trust issues.”

The completely unexpected comment, and the lighthearted way Simon delivered it, made Baz cover his face to drown out a snort. Thankfully Simon also laughed lightly. Some of the tension eased from Baz’s tight shoulders.

“I’ve had loads of people tell me one thing and do another. Say they love me, care for me, want me, need me. But they don’t.” Simon’s smile fell. “Actions speak louder than words, you know?”

“I know,” Baz said softly. He wanted to reach for Simon’s hand but didn’t think they were quite there yet, even if the casual touches were coming more easily.

“And I don’t know what to think...” Simon stared at his plate, absently poking at a piece of squash, “when sometimes you do it too.”

Baz hugged himself, knowing exactly what Simon meant and hating himself for it. What could he say in his defence? His throat closed up and tears - how did he even have any tears left? - burned in his eyes. At least his body’s lost interest in the food made his fangs retract. 

“Last night was really confusing for me,” Simon said softly. “You said - you said you were well fed. That you wanted me. That you would _show_ me. But then… it was ‘no, Simon’ and ‘I’m sorry’ and then… you just ran away. I thought - you said you liked my wings. You said if you were fed enough…”

“I know,” Baz rasped out, his throat almost painfully thick. “I know what I said. I wasn’t… I didn’t mean… It wasn’t like it sounded.”

Simon shook his head sadly and pulled his phone out. “And then I got your texts.” Baz winced, but Simon kept talking. “Why would you tell me you’re well fed, then turn around and drain a bunch of animals?”

Baz covered his face with his hands, wishing he didn’t have to hear any more of Simon’s words, but knowing they needed saying. He pressed his palms into his eyes, forcing down a shudder. He heard the rustling of clothing as Simon came around the table and knelt by his side.

Careful, gentle hands pulled his hands away from his face. “Baz,” Simon whispered, “I know you would never hurt me.”

Immediately Baz’s head began to shake in a violent _no_.

“I know it.”

“No, you can’t. You _can’t_ know that, Simon.”

“Hey, shh… it’s all right.” He rubbed his thumbs over Baz’s inner wrists, and up into his palm. “Baz, you know I know how to defend myself. Even if I’m baking bread instead of practicing swordplay these days.” He squeezed Baz’s fingers when it looked like Baz might interrupt. “But also... I trust you. Last night, I thought you left because you were disgusted by my wings. No, I know that wasn’t it but… don’t you see? It got to be too much for you and you left. To protect me. You didn’t attack me, Baz. You kept me safe.”

Baz sniffed and wiped at his face with the back of his hand. “Simon… it was such a close fucking call…”

“I trust you. Do you trust me?”

“You know I do.”

Simon pulled his chair around so they were sitting knee to knee. He took Baz’s hands again. “You still owe me an open and honest reaction to my wings.” He held up a hand, stopping Baz from speaking. “Not today. Some other time when we’re ready for it. I don’t think I can handle it right now, and I want you to be fed - truly fed - when we do. All right?”

“I won’t let it get out of hand again.” Even as the words left his mouth, Baz winced. He’d said such words before, and yet still slipped from time to time.

Simon gave him a look that said he would also be explaining about his feeding schedule, but otherwise let the words pass. “This morning… about Dr Carter…”

“I’m sorry,” Baz said automatically.

“No you’re not, and that’s okay. She and I talked about it - the laws here, the laws there in America, and how that shapes public perceptions. And what that all might mean for you as a vampire mage.”

Every piece of Baz ached. He wanted to run, to smash something, to kiss Simon, to curl up in bed, to yell into the void. But Simon had hold of his hands, and his whole world narrowed down to warm fingers clasping his own, and the tiny bumping of their knees. 

Without a timer in sight.

And he wanted so badly for Simon to hold him. To _really_ hold him, and offer him comfort no one else could offer.

“Baz, I can see why you think this is your secret, your problem, your life. But…” his fingers squeezed tightly, until Baz’s eyes met his. “If you’re going to be mine, you have to be _all_ mine. It’s _our_ secret, _our_ problem, _our_ lives now. And for always. Yes?”

“Simon.” Baz’s voice cracked on that one word and he didn’t know what else to say. How could he encompass all that he felt, and all that needed saying? He searched the blue eyes he loved so much for understanding, because the proper words wouldn’t come on their own.

He closed his eyes as Simon’s hands came up to cup his cheeks. A tender, chaste kiss brushed across his lips, and Baz nearly crumbled under the weight of it. “Always, all right?” Simon whispered, resting their foreheads together.

Baz gripped Simon’s wrists and exhaled a shuddering breath. “Always.”

“Good.” He sat back and Baz drew in a deep breath.

Before he knew it, Simon was tidying the table. “Do you want me to go?” he asked from the kitchen, closing the fridge on the leftover food. 

“No, but… you won’t be able to let your wings out here.” 

Simon gave him a teasing smile. “I won’t ask how you feel about that. Not today at least.”

“I already told you I like your wings.”

“Indeed you did, my grumpy goose.” Simon crossed his arms, leaning back against the worktop and laughing at Baz’s petulant frown. “Forget my wings for now. I’m just talking about my company.”

“Stay. I always want you to stay.”

It didn’t matter that they sat on either end of the sofa, only that they shared their time with one another.

It didn’t matter that the kitchen had no evening snacks to offer when a warm cup of tea would suffice.

It didn’t even really matter that Simon had to hide his wings, although that one hurt Baz enough to consider replacing all the furniture in the flat.

What mattered was the smile on Simon’s face when he left for the evening.

\--------

Baz spent a tiny portion of his free time on Thursday emailing his professors about the lectures he’d missed the day before. He spent the rest (as well as a large portion of his class time) thinking about Simon. About what the evening held, and the conversations he might not be able to handle just yet.

He stood in front of his open fridge, staring at the neat line of capri sun packets, all filled with blood. Should he bring one with him? Perhaps try to hunt during his walk to Simon’s flat? Although it was still daylight and he could be seen. But arriving a little thirsty seemed like a bad idea.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled as he shoved a capri sun into his bag. Better safe than sorry.

Hunting might have been the better option he thought as Simon looked askance at him heating the bag in a pot of simmering water. He thought about actions and words and how following Simon’s lead might look like reluctance on his own part. He brushed a light kiss on Simon’s cheek. “I’ll hunt something on the way home, when it’s too dark to be seen.”

Simon nodded and flipped the sandwich he was toasting onto a plate. He opened his mouth to say something, but they were interrupted by Penny breezing into the kitchen with a smile. “Ooh, is that the seven grain bread? We haven’t had that in forever.” She moaned happily as she took a bite of the cheese toastie that Baz was fairly certain was meant for him.

Simon inclined his head to the fridge as he worked on the next sandwich, which better be Baz’s. “I made salad too.”

Penny set the salad bowl on the table as she sat to eat. “Basil, how have you been? Haven’t seen you all week.”

Baz stuck the coffee stirring straw into the capri sun and sipped the revolting, warm blood. After his “feast” on Tuesday night, this tasted flat and dull. He choked it down with a smile nonetheless. “I’ve been all right. It’s been a bit of a roller coaster this week.” His eyes flicked to Simon, who focused perhaps a little too hard on the pan.

“Right, of course,” she said kindly.

Because she and Simon had no secrets between them, Baz thought with a flare of jealousy. Likely she knew about Baz’s mad escape on Tuesday, and the fight they had Wednesday morning. Simon probably told her all about his therapy session and how it focused specifically on Baz’s shortcomings and confusing behaviour. 

Simon set a plate down in front of Baz, breaking his trainwreck thoughts. “But we’re working on it, right?”

Baz gave him a smile and reached out to squeeze Simon’s fingers. But as usual, he moved too slowly and Simon was already too far away. When Simon sat at the table with his own dinner, Baz hooked a foot around Simon’s ankle as they listened to Penny prattle on about her group project. Simon didn’t mention it, just nodded and laughed in all the right places at Penny. But his cheeks warmed to a delightful pink that said he wasn’t completely immune to their contact.

“Homework as usual?” Penny asked as they finished eating.

“I brought some reading to do, but nothing too taxing.” 

Simon unfurled his wings and stretched out on the sofa with a self-satisfied grin. “Wow, I do _not_ miss studying at all.”

“You’ll be glad of it when you have a rich husband to keep you in the lifestyle you are accustomed to,” Baz said, arching one eyebrow just to needle Simon. As expected, Simon spluttered indignantly.

“Simon doesn’t need a _rich_ husband to keep him in t-shirts and cheese toasties.”

“Thank you, Penny,” Baz said with an eye roll. “It’s nice to always have you around to keep things real.”

An hour of reading at the kitchen table was all Baz could handle, when Simon’s relaxing on the sofa presented such a lovely view from the corner of his eye. When he rounded the sofa, Simon shifted to make space, leaving a small gap between his feet and Baz’s hip. 

As of yesterday, Baz would have agonised over the tiny space. But today he was trying for bold and daring, for affection and care. He would make his own overtures instead of waiting to take Simon’s lead. He opened his textbook to pick up reading, and rested his right hand on Simon’s ankle. 

Breathing didn’t come easily as he agonised anyway over whether he’d made the right decision. He pretended to read, even while chaos whirled in his brain. What if Simon didn’t like it? What if he didn’t know how to push Baz’s hand away? Would this count as their five minutes, even if they didn’t have a timer? Fucking hell - was he blowing his chance at snogging this evening because he wanted to touch the skin of Simon’s ankle like some touch-starved Victorian maiden?

Then Simon’s foot slid closer until it rested against Baz’s hip. 

Baz exhaled evenly. A good decision then.

Penny joined them shortly after, tapping away at her phone and not paying them any heed. “So I’ll be spending most of Saturday with my Sociology group,” she said with her eyes still on her phone. “Looks like you two will have some time alone here.”

“And we’ll miss you terribly,” Simon said automatically.

“Liar,” she grinned. “We’re meeting at the library after lunch for some in-person revising and planning.”

“What’s with all the tappity-tap-tap if you’re not planning shit?”

“Some things are easier to organise in person,” she said quickly. “And if the meeting runs long, we might grab dinner together.” Something about the protective hunch of her shoulders spoke volumes to Baz, but Simon wasn’t paying attention.

“Ugh, dinner with the group. Yeah I’m definitely glad I’m not in education anymore.”

Baz laughed, “Are you saying dinners with our school chums wasn’t the highlight of your day at Watford?”

“You mean with my ex-girlfriend glaring at me all the time? With the first and second years terrified I might go off at any moment? Not to mention having to help clean up after all those slobs. Yeah, no thanks. I’d much rather have my own kitchen, my own food, my own people.”

“Thank Crowley I’m one of your people. I can’t cook for shit, despite Vera’s best efforts,” Baz said.

“If I’d grown up with a personal chef,” Simon said, “I’d have begged her to teach me anything and everything about cooking. You missed an opportunity there.”

“ _Or_ I gained the chance to keep a pretty boy to cook for me.” He winked at Simon and squeezed his ankle for good measure. He didn’t expect Simon’s spade to smack him on the shoulder.

“I’m not pretty!” Simon’s wing flared briefly.

“Are you saying I _haven’t_ snagged a pretty boy to cook for me and should keep looking?”

“Sod off. I can’t hear the telly.”

Penny snorted at that, and Baz counted it as a win. And even better when Simon pushed his feet into Baz’s lap. 

“You two are ridiculous,” Penny laughed. “I’m off to bed. Goodnight boys.”

“‘Night, Pen,” Simon said. As she left, still tapping on her phone, Simon whispered, “Does she seem weird to you?”

“Who is she texting? Do you really think it’s for her group project?”

Simon shrugged. “She hasn’t said, but it’s been like that all week. I don’t know.” He rolled off the sofa onto his feet, heading to the kitchen. “Anyway, want some tea? I’m making a cup.”

When he came back, he had two cups of tea and the timer with him.

“Do you mind?” he asked as he handed the timer to Baz.

“No, of course not. I was actually wondering if _you_ would want to.”

Simon sat facing Baz, with one bent leg resting against the back of the sofa and the other tucked underneath him. He held the spade of his tail, running his finger along one edge nervously. Baz twisted in his seat so they could face each other a little better. 

“This has been nice today,” Simon said softly. He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind Baz’s ear, then traced down his cheek and along his jaw.

“Well, you know… actions speak louder than words, yes?”

“Yeah.” Simon bit his lip. “Yeah, that’s good. It’s nice when you go first.” His gaze dropped to his hands, fiddling with his tail once again. “You’re always so… confident. So when you hesitate to - to reach out… it feels like you don’t really want me.”

“Oh Simon, I’m so sorry. I was afraid of pushing you when you were still dealing with so much. I was just waiting for you to be ready for more.”

“I don’t - sometimes I don’t know…” He scrunched his face up, searching for his words. Several seconds passed in frustrated silence. “It’s like… affection doesn’t come easily for me, you know? Even with Agatha. My magic… Sometimes I’m glad it's gone. It drove everyone away.”

They’d talked about that before, when Simon first started working at Smell the Flours. He didn’t know how to react to Maris at first, a Normal that smiled at him all the time. Because even if Normals couldn’t detect his magic, something about him was off-putting to them. It made life in the care homes especially difficult.

He received a similar reception in the magickal world. Other mages gave his burned, ashy scent a wide berth in fear of the sea of magic he held. And indeed even Agatha grew tired of the maelstrom that was Simon Snow.

Agatha needed to get away. None of them blamed her for it. They’d had letters and texts from her in California and her life among the Normals did more for her mental health than anything England had to offer her.

Only Penelope and Baz had stayed with him.

Baz set the timer for five minutes. “Not me. Never me. You’ll have to put up with me, long after you’ve lost interest.”

“You think I could lose interest in you? If anyone knows how to keep me on my toes it’s Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”

Baz tapped the timer to start, then cradled Simon’s cheeks to pull him in for a kiss. He leaned into it, relishing the soft moan Simon made. His hands wrapped around Baz’s waist, and then it was Baz’s turn to moan when he felt Simon’s tail slide up his thigh. With a delightful zing, all his blood rushed to fill his cock, hardening him in seconds.

Before, he might have panicked about his body’s reaction, and tried to hide it from Simon. But now, knowing Simon wanted to feel _all_ of Baz’s desire, he pushed Simon back against the sofa, so he could rest in the cradle of Simon’s legs. The position was awkward on the little sofa. The narrow space didn’t really allow for the two of them to recline comfortably, especially when one of them had a large pair of wings to tuck in. 

Simon caught on quickly and spread his legs, with one foot resting on the floor, the other curling around Baz’s leg. “Baz… _fuck_...”

Baz rolled his hips against Simon, eager for any friction at all. 

“Baz,” Simon gasped, “you are so hard…” His hands tentatively covered Baz’s arse and, when he met with no protest, pressed down hard while arching his own hips up. “Yes… that’s so… _fuck_...”

It wasn’t _enough_. Just like Sunday, a warm buzzing filled Baz and he wanted to sink his fangs into the pulsing artery in Simon’s neck. They burned in his gums, just waiting to pop. But this time, with fresh blood still running through him, he managed to keep hold of them. It didn’t stop him from nibbling lightly at Simon’s neck and sucking hard at his pulse point. 

A light tapping sound registered a second or two before Penelope-cockblocking-Bunce walked into the sitting room. She shrieked and dropped her phone to cover her eyes.

Simon shoved Baz hard, knocking him into the coffee table and sending both of their cups spinning to the ground and splashing tea everywhere. At the same time, his wings flared wide as he turned, smacking Baz, the coffee table, and Penelope all at once. 

“Ack! Nicks and Slick, Simon!” Penny yelled, cradling the arm Simon inadvertently hit with his wing. “What are you doing?! And why aren’t you doing it in your room?!”

“I’m sorry! We thought you’d gone to bed!” Simon spluttered. His wings fluttered, then pulled in tight against his body.

“Well, I left my book out here. If I’d known you were going to be -” she gestured wildly, “I would’ve left it ‘til morning.” She turned away, searching the room for her book.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again.”

She swiped her book from the floor (free of the tea spill, thank Crowley) and stomped back to her room yelling, “It’d best not!” 

Simon turned wide eyes on Baz, smothering a laugh. The timer began beeping madly, and both Baz and Simon broke out into absurd giggling. 

“Help me find it, berk,” Baz laughed, searching the floor under the sofa.

“It’s here.” Simon pulled it out from his end of the sofa and tapped it to turn it off. He sat down with a huff. “There isn’t enough cheesy garlic bread in the world to get her to forgive us for that one.”

“Maybe next time don’t smack her with your wings.” Baz took their cups to the kitchen and returned with a towel to sop up the spilled tea.

“Sorry, I panicked. For a second, I tried summoning my sword.”

He set the wet towel on the coffee table and pulled his wand from his backpack. “You mean the sword you haven’t been able to summon since you got rid of your magic?” Baz asked, raising one eyebrow. “ ** _Clean as a whistle_** ,” he said, pointing his wand at the tea stains.

Simon rolled his eyes. “Old habits and all… Anyway, up until Penny arrived, that was fucking brilliant.”

“Yes,” Baz said with a smile, sitting on his end of the sofa. “Worth repeating tomorrow?”

Simon stayed silent for a second or two, staring at the television. “You know… Dr Carter and I didn’t get to talk about our five-minutes-a-day this week.”

“Oh?” Baz wondered where this might be going, given that _he_ had been the topic of discussion this week, and not in a good way.

“Yeah and… I was thinking… With Penny gone and all, we’ll have more time alone… Maybe we could try _ten_ minutes? Instead of five.” His eyes darted to Baz, then away just as quickly. “What do you think about that?”

“I think I’d best go hunting tonight.”

Simon pulled his knees to his chest and attempted to hide his blushing grin against his knees. Baz hoped Simon never lost his adorable innocence.

\--------

Simon (4:12 pm): I’m making French toast and fruit salad for dinner tonight.

Baz smiled in anticipation, even if his brain ran through a quick mental calculation. When was the last time he contributed to dinner? He used to bring take-away once or twice a week. But lately Simon had been cooking more, and Baz didn’t need to.

On his way to Simon’s flat, he stopped in at his usual butcher to place an order for more pigs blood. Mr Ambry didn’t question the quantity, or why it was less than usual. He’d long since lost interest in what Baz did with it all. Baz used to attempt an excuse but gave them up when he ran out of ideas. Honestly, no one liked black pudding that much. While he was there, he bought six plump sausages to share for their breakfast-for-dinner.

“Smells delicious in here,” Baz said as he entered Simon’s flat. The warm scent of butter and cinnamon hit him hard, for some reason knocking him back to Watford and waking up to Simon every morning. Scent memory was such a strange thing.

In the kitchen, Penelope chopped fruit while Simon beat eggs next to a pan of melted butter. He wanted to greet Simon with a kiss, but thought Penny might stab him with the knife if they moved so close to one another. 

Baz handed Simon the wrapped meat. “I brought sausages to go with our meal.” 

Their fingers brushed briefly as Simon said, “Thank you.” He rolled his eyes at Penny’s back, and gave Baz a sheepish half-smile and a wink. 

The hours from dinner until Penny went to bed dragged on for an eternity. Baz even tried feigning sleepiness by curling up on the sofa with his blanket to drive her away. But she just propped her feet on the coffee table, crossing her ankles with a significant look at him all the while. Fine, perhaps he and Simon deserved it for snogging in the flat’s public areas, in direct defiance of the unspoken rules.

But it wouldn’t be very subtle to excuse themselves for ten minutes to Simon’s room. Especially if Baz cast **silence is golden** or **quiet as a mouse** and she suddenly couldn’t hear anything. He _needed_ this ten minutes, but not if he had Penny judging him from another room to spoil it.

It didn’t help that Simon kept squirming at the other end of the sofa. Every so often he’d sigh at Baz, or glare at Penny. But she kept tapping away, smirking at her phone. Finally, _fucking finally_ , at nearly midnight, she stretched and yawned and bid them both goodnight.

“She did that on purpose,” Simon hissed as soon as she left.

“We probably deserve it.”

“You’re taking her side?!”

“I’m saying I understand her motives. Get the timer. I’ll meet you in your room.”

Baz grabbed his wand and headed to Simon’s room. Two impatient minutes later, he returned to the sitting room to see what was taking so long. There, he found Simon on his knees searching under the sofa.

“What are you doing?”

“The timer wasn’t in the kitchen.”

“What?” 

Simon sat back on his heels and shook his head. “I think Penny hid it. Help me find it.”

Baz looked around the room, as if the timer might be sitting in plain sight and Simon missed it. “I can’t believe her! That’s pretty harsh punishment for such a small infraction.”

“Do you think - maybe she thinks we don’t need it anymore?”

Blood thrummed through Baz at an alarming rate and he knew if this took much longer, he might start smashing things. “No,” he said as calmly as he could manage. “We absolutely do.” He went to the kitchen to see if Simon overlooked the timer. “And anyway, we’re not making a decision like that without talking about it rationally first.”

“We can -”

“I can’t talk rationally now.” Fuck this ridiculous search. “ ** _Come out, come out wherever you are_**!”

A loud rattling came from one of the drawers of the television stand. Simon opened it and the timer flew out to land in Baz’s hand.

Baz grinned and said, “Come on. You owe me ten minutes.”

With a matching grin, Simon closed the door to his bedroom. “Cast something to make it so she can’t hear us.”

“You know, silence is just as incriminating as sound would be,” Baz said, even as he raised his wand at the door. “ ** _Silence is golden_** ,” he said firmly. The door shimmered a soft yellow colour for a moment or two. He tapped the timer, fingers trembling over the extra minutes. After tossing it to the nightstand, he pushed Simon to the bed. Straddling his hips he whispered, “Is this all right?”

“Better than,” Simon said, eagerly opening to Baz’s kiss.

Knowing that he had ten _whole_ minutes to kiss Simon didn’t make him any less desperate. He drank in Simon’s moans and returned his own. Desire, molten and supple, surged up to be nearly tangible inside him. Last night’s hunt kept it at a manageable level, but something drove him on relentlessly anyway. He nibbled and bit at Simon’s lips, along the sharp line of his jaw and to the soft dip below his ear. Soft curls tangled in his grip, and he worried he held on tighter than Simon could manage.

But he couldn’t force his fingers to ease up. Everything in him screamed to hold Simon tighter, to kiss him harder. To claim him and keep him and never let him go. What would he do if he lost Simon entirely?

“You’re not going to lose me,” Simon whispered, massaging gently along Baz’s inner wrist to loosen his grip. 

Bloody fucking hell, he’d said that out loud.

“It’s okay Baz, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know. _I know_. But I’m… I’m…” 

He didn’t know.

He buried his face in Simon’s neck and inhaled deeply of his sweet scent. Buttery and soft, with a tinge of cinnamon. His fingers eased in Simon’s hair, massaging his scalp and down to his neck. Slowly, his breath evened out and his body relaxed to stretch along Simon’s. 

“Better now?” Simon asked.

Baz nodded, more interested in skimming his lips along the thumping artery of Simon’s neck than in speaking. His hand slid across Simon’s chest, pressing against firm muscles. And even better when Simon’s hands slid up his back, cradling him close.

His erection ached in his pyjama bottoms, tenting the thin fabric in a way that should be embarrassing. But Baz was too aroused to be embarrassed. Instead he rolled his hips against Simon, and then again when Simon moaned in response. The friction felt brilliant, even if it wasn’t quite enough.

“Fuck, Baz… you are so… let me just - hold on.” Simon sat up to open his wings across the bed. “That’s better,” he said as he settled back, arms open. “Come here.”

This position allowed Baz to lay more fully on Simon, and he groaned loudly when he felt an answering hardness in Simon’s pyjamas. He sucked hard on Simon’s bottom lip, then licked it gently to ease the soreness. When Simon ran a hand over Baz’s arse, he laid his own hand on the soft leather of Simon’s wing. It fluttered under his fingertips, and he took that as a good sign. Up and up his fingers went until he could feel the steady beat of blood just under the surface along a ridge of cartilage.

The ringing timer filled Baz with disbelief and rage - how could it be ten minutes already?! But he eased off quickly anyway. He tapped the timer to silence it and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Are you all right?” Simon asked, sitting up against the headboard.

Baz inhaled deeply. And again. And a third time. “Yes.” He shifted so he could sit next to Simon, hugging the pillow to his chest. “Yes, I’m fine. That was so fucking hot.”

Simon laughed lightly. “Yeah, it definitely was.” A moment later he added softly, “This is probably the first time I’ve been hard in… I don’t know how long.”

Another bolt of lust shot through Baz. “What?” His head whipped around, but Simon had his knees pulled up to his chest, and Baz wouldn’t be able to see it anyway. 

A wing came between them, curling around Simon’s shoulder as though to shield him. Baz’s instinct was to move further away in the bed or leave the room entirely to give Simon privacy. But actions like that accumulated until they couldn’t touch each other at all. So instead, he traced a line down the wing and asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” And then Simon’s fingers appeared on the bed just below his wing. Baz took that as an invitation and rested his fingertips on Simon’s.

The silence covered them like a warm, comforting blanket. Baz closed his eyes and relished the adrenaline and arousal still running through him. The light touch of fingertips wasn’t quite enough, so he wriggled his fingers until he could lace their hands together fully, palm to palm. His wrist bumped against Simon’s wing in the process.

When Baz noticed Simon’s grip tightening with nerves, he decided to throw caution to the wind to break the tension. “Full disclosure, I wanked earlier today.”

Simon snorted. “You did not.”

“Why would I lie about something like that?”

A long moment passed, and Simon asked tentatively, “What did you think about?”

Baz squeezed Simon’s fingers briefly. “You.”

Simon peered around his wing, eyes wide in wonder. “No you didn’t.”

“Of course I did. You’re the fittest bloke I know. It was that day back in July, when you got caught in the rain on the way home from work.”

“I’ve been caught loads of times.”

“I know. I’d invest in a brolly for you, but I like your wet clothes sticking to you. This _particular_ day, you had on a white t-shirt that soaked right through to your skin. You whipped it off as soon as you walked in and shook out your wings. And your jeans - soaked and sliding down your hips just a little… Simon, it was just the hottest fucking thing, you shirtless and damp and the wings and your hip bones and the fiery blaze of your eyes…” Baz closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. “It’s still one of my favourite memories of you.”

“Wanker,” Simon muttered. He hid his face (and smile) in his hand, but Baz saw the vibrant blush anyway.

“I just told you I was.”

Simon laughed and snuggled close to Baz, going so far as to rest his head on Baz’s shoulder. Baz tensed, terrified of doing something to spook Simon, but told himself he was being a ninny. Simon didn’t seem worried about what might happen next, and so Baz wouldn’t worry either. With his eyes closed, he soaked in Simon’s warmth and the feel of their joined hands.

“Next time,” Baz whispered, “or just some time soon… I want to touch your wings again. Just your wings” The wing twitched against his arm. “When you’re ready.”

Simon got up from the bed, and Baz worried he’d said the wrong thing. Holding a pillow to his chest, Simon looked so young and innocent. He bit his lip and said, “You can sleep here tonight.”

“You’re giving me your bed?”

“Yeah, it isn’t fair you have to sleep on the sofa every Friday. So I’ll take this one.” He crossed to the door and paused. “Maybe tomorrow. With the wings.” Hurriedly, he closed the door, not giving Baz any time to respond.

He hesitated only a second before making himself comfortable in Simon’s bed.

_Simon’s bed_! 

There was no way his erection would fade on its own now. Not with the warmth of Simon’s body lingering in the sheets, along with the sweet yeasty scent he carried. Perhaps Baz should feel depraved as he slid his hand into his pyjama bottoms and took his cock in hand. But as the gentle orgasm washed through him, it mingled with a giddy joy that carried him into a blissful sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The disorientation of waking in a strange place evaporated quickly as Baz stretched himself awake. He greeted the day with a smile, eager to spend all of it with Simon.

And it would begin, as promised, with a cup of tea for the man he loved.

Moving quietly through the flat, so as not to wake either Penny or Simon, Baz slipped into the kitchen and started the coffee maker, as well as a mug of Simon’s favourite morning tea. He also cut a few slices of honey wheat bread to toast.

Just as he took his first bite of toast, Simon trudged in sleepily. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” Baz said, removing the charm from the mug and pushing it across the table. “Your tea is ready.” 

Simon collapsed into the seat, sipping his tea with a grateful moan. “Perfect temperature. I could never get **I love you just the way you are** to keep my tea just right.” 

Baz smiled and continued scanning his open textbook. “You never were any good with sung spells.”

“Or any spells, really.”

The tone set alarm bells ringing in Baz’s brain, but a glance at Simon showed his regular, grumpy morning face focused on slathering _more_ butter on the buttery toast. Strawberry jam quickly followed, and the odd moment passed.

“Why do you stay with me?”

Or the odd moment stuck around to ruin a good morning. “Mm, for the free artisan breads,” Baz said flippantly, turning another page. That didn’t spark the laugh he expected. Baz sighed and set his book aside. “What’s brought this on? Things went well yesterday, right?”

“I don’t know. I -” He cut off suddenly when they heard the bathroom door close. “Penny,” Simon whispered.

Internally Baz rolled his eyes. Damn her interference! “It’s fine. Let’s just have a nice morning and we’ll talk about it later?” He reached across the table, palm up as an offering. Simon stared at it a beat too long before tracing his fingers lightly over Baz’s palm with a small smile. “Promise me you won’t spend the entire morning in a downward panic spiral.”

That got the real smile he was after. “Thank you for the tea.”

“It was my pleasure,” Baz said with a return smile, distantly noting that Simon did _not_ promise to avoid panicking.

Penny joining them for breakfast was both help and hindrance. She put Simon at ease by teasing him about giving up his bed (no one brought up the hidden timer), but also kept Simon and Baz from a conversation they desperately needed. The longer they went without addressing Simon’s concerns, the harder it would be to convince him his thought process had derailed.

Because there was no way Baz could regret any of what happened last night. Not the way their bodies rocked together, or the feel of Simon’s wings under his fingertips. He loved cuddling next to him, holding his hand. And the nervous half-smile when he teased Baz about wanking before coming over.

And the orgasm he had after Simon left. Even now, over tea and toast, with Penelope in her usual role of cockblocker (or in this case would it be conversation-blocker?) (that didn’t have the same ring to it), Baz couldn’t help but sigh in happiness at memories of coming while drenched in Simon’s scent. He made eye contact with Simon and something must have been in his own eyes because Simon blushed a violent red and jumped up to take his mug and plate to the sink.

Simon offered to do the shopping again, because Penny would be busy with her group later and could use the free time at home. Baz gained his first insight into what might be upsetting Simon when he approached Penny with hunched shoulders and wings extended slightly.

“Can you hide these for me?”

“Of course,” she said quickly, as always. Penny pointed her ring at Simon and recited the spell in her clear, no-nonsense voice. 

The wings disappeared and Simon rolled his shoulders. The tail wrapped around his waist and he tucked it under his shirt. These moments when Simon looked most like his old self always threw Baz out of himself for a moment. Did Simon feel trapped here in the flat, unable to leave if Penny or Baz weren’t around?

But one of them was always around, so did it matter? It never bothered Baz to spare a bit of magic to hide them for Simon. And he _adored_ when Simon came home and shook out his wings to settle in for the night. Wings out, to Baz, meant home and comfort. And if Baz had more space in his flat, then Simon would have _two_ places he belonged.

“So hear me out before you say no…”

Simon’s face tensed before Baz even finished speaking.

“I said hear me out!” Baz laughed. “You know your sofa is a piece of shit…”

Simon rolled his eyes and continued picking through the display of apples. Baz hoped there would be pie in his future.

“Your sofa is a piece of shit, and I think we can agree that mine is too big for my flat.”

“Are you suggesting we switch?” he asked, stacking apples in their basket.

“No! I don’t want that piece of shit in my flat. I’m saying you should take mine and I can find one better suited to my living space. Maybe a loveseat or pair of armchairs.”

The alarming amount of apples boded well for Baz’s hopes for pie. Simon moved on to cucumbers and squash. He didn’t look very happy with the suggestion so Baz continued selling his idea.

“You can ask Penny what she thinks. Since it’s her flat too. But no one ever stays at mine, and it seems like its comfort is being wasted.”

Simon glanced around to be sure no one could hear before whispering, “I stayed over at yours.”

“Just that one time. A fluke, an accident. One we aren’t likely to repeat, now are we?” The way Simon avoided his eyes and threw food into his basket with barely a glance told Baz he’d fucked up in some way. “Hey…” he reached out automatically, but pulled his hand back before making contact. “I just thought -”

“It’s fine. We can talk to Penny about it.” His curt words closed the subject, and he continued on with the shopping. He rolled his shoulders and Baz wondered if he missed his wings and the protection they offered him from Baz’s gaze.

Was it the autumn weather or the cold shoulder that made Baz shiver on the walk home? As they climbed the last few stairs to Simon’s flat, Baz fervently hoped Penny had already left for her group so they could talk candidly.

Except they weren’t set to meet until after lunch. Penny greeted them with a smile and helped put the groceries away.

“You bought fig jam? That’s new,” she said as she set the jar in the cupboard.

“I bought it,” Baz said. “I get tired of strawberry every Saturday morning. Or, well, most Saturday mornings.” He looked up from folding his canvas shopping bag to find Simon giving him an odd stare. “What? You and Penny never have anything but strawberry. Do you know I have _six_ types of jam in my fridge?”

“I think I misunderstood… about the sofa.”

Baz snorted. “I _know_ you did. But I didn’t want to fuss about it at the shop.”

“What about the sofa?” Penny asked, looking between the two of them.

“Baz offered to trade sofas. Or, not trade. But he thinks we should get rid of ours and he’ll give us his and get himself something else. Something no one can sleep on.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Me neither.”

They both stared at Baz, and he suddenly felt unaccountably ridiculous. “I just thought… since I’ve been sleeping over more and more that it would be _nice_ to have somewhere more comfortable to do it.”

“And what about your flat?”

“I thought if I had something smaller, there would be more open space.” He looked down at the bag in his hands. “Maybe you could let your wings out at my flat too. Then maybe you’d want to spend more time there.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh,’” Baz mimicked snidely. “Stop jumping to ridiculous conclusions in that head of yours.”

Simon stuck his tongue out at Baz and finished putting away the groceries. He folded his bag and tucked it away with the others. 

“Well I, for one, wouldn’t be opposed to a better sofa,” Penny said. “You two should go get it. Right now.”

“Now? We just got back from the shopping!”

“No whining! Go, you two clearly have something to talk about and I’m not leaving my own home for it. If switching sofas means you spend more time over at Basil’s than I’m all for it.” She crossed her arms and gave each of them a stern frown. “I think none of us want a repeat of Thursday?”

“Or parts of Friday,” Baz added with a glare at Penny.

She grinned unapologetically. “It was a simple spell to find the timer and now we can call it even.”

“It’s not even when one of us doesn’t have any magic,” Simon said flatly. Penny’s grin fell and he immediately held out a hand to forestall her apologies. “Never mind, we called it even and it’s fine.” He walked away, calling loudly, “Let me grab a warmer jacket and we can go to yours and see about switching sofas.”

Baz and Penny shared a look. Baz hurried away before he had to listen to the stumbling apology Simon had neatly avoided.

\--------

Simon collapsed across Baz’s sofa without even kicking his trainers off first. He settled in deep against the cushions, closing his eyes and sighing. “This is definitely nicer than ours.” Baz remained silent as he sat in the overstuffed armchair crammed into the corner next to the balcony doors. “I thought you didn’t want me sleeping over anymore.”

“My flat is too small for overnight guests. I think it’s nice for hanging out - on the balcony if I cleaned it up a bit or by the cosy fire - but yours is better for sleeping.”

“Do you really like staying over?”

“Of course I do. I know I whine about it, but... I spent almost eight years of my life waking up to you and it’s my favourite thing. Well, one of my favourite things.” He grinned when Simon opened his eyes to stare at him suspiciously. Then Simon blushed and closed his eyes again.

“You don’t sleep over as often as you used to. If we had the nicer sofa, would you stay more often?”

Baz moved to the far end of the sofa, lifting Simon’s legs to rest in his lap so that the dirty trainers didn’t sully his trousers. And Simon let him. “If you asked, I would move in with you today.”

Simon’s eyes flew open and he launched himself to his feet, knocking into the coffee table and almost upsetting the floor lamp next to the sofa. And he didn’t even have his wings out yet, Baz thought with a mental eye roll.

“We’re not - not talking about moving _in_ together!” Simon spluttered.

“No of course not,” Baz agreed readily. “We wanted a little space after leaving school, and this has been mostly good. I’m trying to tell you I love spending time with you. That I don’t care about the sofa or which flat we visit. I just like being with you.”

Simon scrubbed at his hair and sat gingerly on his end of the sofa. “Then why did you stop?”

“A variety of reasons. The biggest one was the beginning of term. I have an easier time getting to uni from here because I don’t have to dance around you and Penny while getting ready in the morning. Mainly Penny.”

“Watford prepared us well for sharing a flat.”

“Sometimes I left something behind here, and it made it hard to get to lectures on time.” Baz’s voice softened as he hesitantly mentioned a painful point. “I asked if I could have space… for some clothes and things. You said no.”

Simon’s gaze stayed on the black spade of his tail, cradled in his hands, and his face pinked. “I know… Sometimes you…” He cleared his throat and tried again. “Sometimes you’d forget a shirt or something, and wear one of mine.” His eyes met Baz’s. “I like when you wear my clothes.”

Baz grinned, despite his chaotic thoughts. “That’s not how that came across. Especially once you threw my toothbrush out.”

“I did not!” Simon’s face scrunched up. “Oh, that was probably Penny. She said it was time for new ones. And then you never brought another one.”

“I thought it was some kind of silent protest against me staying over. It became the last straw. I kept it to weekends, when it didn’t matter if I forgot something, and I packed my own toothbrush.”

“Oh.” Simon fiddled with his tail, lost in thought for a minute or two of silence. “I guess that contributed to the whole mess…”

“Yes, I suppose it did.”

Another beat of silence, then Simon took Baz’s hand and they sat close together, breathing slowly and evenly. Simon’s heartbeat, steady and strong, kept Baz from panicking. What thoughts swirled through Simon’s brain now? It must be good, if his heart could beat so evenly.

“Let’s take the sofa. And I’ll clear out a drawer for you at mine.”

Baz beamed as he pulled his wand. “One **It’s a small, small world** coming up!”

The shrunken sofa fit in the palm of his hand, looking like they plucked it from a gothic doll house. Simon turned it this way and that with a grin. “It’s so tiny! I hope Penny likes it.”

“She has her chair. She’ll probably hardly ever sit on it anyway.”

“You’re so clever,” Simon said. He paused a moment, then kissed Baz on the cheek. “I kissed your cheek.”

“I know because it’s my cheek. I like your kisses. All of them.”

Simon’s nervousness faded into a soft smile. “Good. It’s - we’re getting there, right?”

“One kiss at a time.”

“Five minutes at a time.”

“You’ve raised the bar and I’m expecting _ten_ minutes later.” Baz almost choked on his words as they left his lips. Not wanting to add undue pressure, he babbled on, “Not that it _has_ to be ten minutes. Five is good too. Or we can skip it if you need to.”

“Baz, calm down!” Simon laughed. “I get it, you’re good with whatever. Following my lead. All that jazz… it’s fine.” He kissed Baz’s cheek again. “We’re finding our way and it’s fine.”

“Okay,” Baz said, breathing a little too fast anyway.

“Come on, let’s go home and see what Penny thinks of this sofa.” Simon swallowed and gestured at the kitchen. “Want to bring a capri sun?”

“Erm, no…” Baz hesitated, then sighed. “I’ve told Mr Ambry I won’t be ordering so much anymore.”

The tension returned instantly. Simon looked at the shrunken sofa in his hand. “I think… we shrunk this too soon?”

Baz laughed, and relaxed when Simon hesitantly joined him. “I’ll hunt tonight. That’s just better for me.”

“I thought you said hunting in the city was too much trouble.”

“It is.” Baz rubbed his jaw, considering his next words. Talking about hunting made him feel jumpy and nervous. Especially with Simon. He didn’t want to disgust or frighten him. “You know lately I’ve started depending on the capri suns more and more and… I think we can both see that wasn’t working.”

Simon’s lips pressed together. “That night, with my wings…”

“Right. It’s - even if that blood is fresh. It’s not fresh _enough_. And I didn’t realise how it was affecting me until then.” He looked down at the floor, ashamed to say, “I thought I was going to bite you.”

“But you didn’t.” Simon ran a tentative hand down Baz’s arm and took him by the hand. “You didn’t.”

“I know.” He gave Simon’s fingers a gentle squeeze. “Inconvenient or not, it’s better if I hunt.”

“You’ll go tonight?”

Baz nodded.

“I can come with you.”

Everything in Baz screamed an automatic _no fucking way_. He inhaled sharply, and exhaled slowly. On the other hand, Simon had been to the butcher with him, had helped him fill capri sun bags, had seen him feed from animals before. There was no reason to panic, even if being watched made Baz uncomfortably vulnerable.

He’d seen Simon at his worst, he deserved to see Baz at his worst.

“We’ll go tonight,” Baz said evenly.

\--------

Penny had just enough time to approve the new sofa before sailing out the door, happily texting, to meet her Sociology group.

“Something’s up with that group,” Simon said as soon as the door closed. He sat in the space Penny had just vacated. “There’s no way they’re meeting the _entire_ evening, including dinner. Last week, wasn’t she home for dinner?”

“Maybe she’s met someone.”

“A Normal? Not likely. Her mum and dad would lose their shit.”

“All the more reason to keep it quiet, right?”

Simon made a noncommittal sound. He shook himself and smiled at Baz. “Forget Penny. We’ve got the flat to ourselves. Should we…?” He waggled his eyebrows as his words trailed off.

Warmth swirled through Baz. They’d had such a good time last night, and headed off Simon’s overreacting from this morning. He wanted to ride this wave of open happiness with Simon. Alas... “We should wait until tonight. After I’ve had the chance to hunt.”

“Okay, that’s a good idea.” Simon turned on the telly and pulled his knees to his chest, settling in against the cushions of the sofa.

Baz wondered if he should move from Penny’s armchair to the sofa. Would Simon like that? Or would it scare him off? He’d given in so quickly on the idea of fooling around, but maybe he harbored disappointment that some hand-holding might alleviate. Or maybe hand-holding would remind him that Baz was a violent creature that couldn’t be trusted to snog for five minutes without having a meltdown.

“I could sit with you,” Baz said quickly, before the weight of his own thoughts crushed him. “We could hold hands. I can get the timer.” He shot to his feet, then paused. “Or we could try… without the timer?”

Beautiful blue eyes widened, and a second later, Simon’s wings shot out, tumbling him off the sofa. They both laughed as Baz helped him to his feet.

“Sorry… I was… surprised. I don’t know.” Simon searched Baz’s face, as though the answer could be found there. “Are we ready?”

“Probably not for the kissing we’ll do later. But for this? I think so.”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go for it.”

Despite his excitement, Simon’s nerves kept him stiff as a board next to Baz. Every so often, Baz would wriggle his fingers or shift so that they pressed more closely together. It took nearly five minutes (at this point, Baz’s body was well acquainted with what five minutes felt like) for Simon’s fingers to lose their death grip on Baz. Then he spread his wing so it cradled Baz, and rested one knee on Baz’s thigh. After another three minutes, Simon’s heart reached a normal rate.

Relaxed cuddling at last.

“Hey look, Percy Jackson,” Simon said, dropping the remote on the coffee table. “What a shit film from such a fun book.”

“You read a book? For fun?”

Simon grinned at the gentle teasing. “I read Percy Jackson. I wanted to be just like him. A hero. Badass with a sword. It was like a dream come true when the Mage found me.” He rested his head against Baz. “We saw the film at the library. The home I was in just had me and two of their own kids, and took me to all sorts of ‘enriching activities’. I remember criticising Percy’s form and having a sword fight with some sticks in the garden. I disarmed that kid four times in ten minutes. That sure pissed him off.”

“Sounds like fun,” Baz said softly. Simon’s tail wrapped around their joined hands, and Baz caressed the spade lightly.

“I guess. Two weeks later I was back at school. They didn’t take me back the next summer.” Simon shrugged. “It’s fine, the Murphys were good too.”

Baz had heard enough about that group home to recognise the lie, but he let it go. He rested against Simon, listening to the occasional rant about sword forms and plot holes as the quiet afternoon went on.

\--------

Full dark had fallen by the time they finished dinner. Baz followed Simon to the kitchen to help him clean up, but Simon set the plates in the sink with a hurried, “We’ll clean up later. Let’s go hunting.”

Baz groaned good-naturedly. “Are you sure you want to come? It’s… not great.” It felt like too late to back out, but Baz regretted agreeing to the whole thing.

“You’ve let me see before. I want to. I want everything about you.”

Baz traced over Simon’s eyebrow, and around the curve of his ear. “Simon… I think the same about you.”

His wings flexed briefly, and Simon’s smile faltered. He shuffled in place for a second, before tucking himself in close to Baz for a hug. He pressed his face into the curve of Baz’s neck and his tail wrapped around them both. 

“I don’t know how to believe you,” Simon sighed. He pulled away and gave Baz a beautiful, but shy smile. “I’m working on it.”

“I know. I’m proud of you. We’ve come such a long way these few weeks.” Baz took Simon’s hand before he could get too far away. “Come on. Up to the roof. I’ll catch a few birds.”

Baz walked the perimeter of the building’s roof, casting a wide **nothing to see here** as he did.

“What’s that for?” Simon asked.

“I never know how many birds there’ll be, and don’t want someone getting suspicious if it’s too many to look natural. Stand back.” Baz pointed his wand to the sky and called out, “ ** _Come home to roost_**!”

Seconds later, they heard the flapping of wings as birds began to circle the building. Pigeons, starlings, robins, blackbirds, and more - they swirled in a large funnel, landing clumsily at Baz’s feet. He glanced at Simon one more time before reaching for the first bird. Six in all he drained, piling the carcasses next to him.

He wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, even though it didn’t really need it, and then sent the rest of the birds flying away. 

“Baz,” Simon said softly, “that was incredible. Your magic and…”

“I know,” Baz said, looking at the pile of dead birds. “Just don’t. Not right now.” A whispered spell vanished the birds. Although the influx of blood made him calm in many ways, the vulnerability he’d offered to Simon still bubbled uncomfortably under his skin.

“Hey, it’s all right.” His eyes scanned Baz’s face, and he seemed to find what he was searching for. He took Baz’s hands. “We’re both… we match, remember?” His wings flared out wide. “I’m not exactly human either. In fact…” He backed up, heading towards the edge of the building. With a lopsided grin, he turned and ran the last little bit before hurtling himself off the edge.

“Simon!” Baz yelled, his heart in his throat.

And then that wild fucker soared up high above the building, circling with the few remaining birds. His wings beat heavily as he flew, with his tail offering a counterbalance.

“Aleister _fucking_ Crowley, Simon, you wretched creature! You scared the shit out of me!”

A faint laugh carried on the wind, then Simon dived right past Baz. “I can carry you along with me!”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Baz screamed, holding his hands out in warning.

He got another laugh for that, then Simon - windswept, gorgeous Simon - landed with a stumble on the roof. He twirled Baz in a laughing hug and tried to kiss him on the lips, but Baz offered his cheek instead. “I can fly, Baz. Can you believe it? It’s amazing!”

“Simon, that was… brilliant. Truly brilliant.” He shared a laugh with his beaming boyfriend. “I mean, I guessed that you were flying at night. But seeing it now… That was incredible!”

“These wings have to be good for something. And I - I think I get it? That piece of me, that wants to know you, have you, sink into you. It’s the same for you, yeah?”

His shy innocence cut right through Baz’s remaining hesitancy. “Yes,” Baz sighed. “Oh Simon, you know that it is. I want - I want whatever you have to offer me.”

Simon nodded sharply. “Let’s go in.” He took Baz’s hand. “I want… I want _you_. As you are.”

Baz excused himself to the bathroom first, and scrubbed his mouth as clean as he could. No matter how accepting Simon professed to be, Baz wasn’t about to kiss him with blood lingering in his mouth. He stared at his reflection, awed as always at the flush in his cheeks. Not for the first time he wondered what he would look like if he’d never been Turned, if he’d kept the brown skin he was born with. He dried his hands with a sigh. He couldn’t even picture it, after looking at his grey reflection for so many years. It hardly mattered anyway.

In the bedroom, he found Simon tossing the timer from hand to hand. His anxious expression melted away as Baz sat next to him. He handed the timer to Baz. “Should we do ten? Or just five?”

“Let’s do ten and if it gets to be too much, just say so and we can stop.” He set the timer aside and pushed Simon to the bed, nuzzling at his lips. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Simon groaned and raised his head to meet Baz’s lips more fully. Baz’s newly fed body lit up from head to toe, every piece of him craving more and more of Simon. The sweet, buttery scent of him muddled Baz’s brain, until he couldn’t think of anything but the slick heat of his mouth and the way their bodies entwined.

His cock throbbed heavily when Simon rolled them and rocked his hips into Baz. Knowing that Simon was just as hard, even if they weren’t ready to go delving into pants just yet, sent Baz’s own arousal spiralling higher. He dragged his foot up the back of Simon’s leg, wrapping it lightly around his hip to draw Simon in closer.

“I want… your skin… can I?” The sentence fragments were accompanied by Simon tugging on the hem of Baz’s shirt. At his breathless nod, Simon sat up, straddling Baz’s hips and quickly worked down the row of buttons to reveal his flushed chest. Simon’s fingers trailed down the smooth skin. “So soft… so very…” He leaned down to kiss the centre of Baz’s chest, then up along his neck.

When Baz’s hands landed on Simon’s hips, Simon lifted his t-shirt. Baz took this as permission to skim his fingers up Simon’s back. Simon moaned and arched into Baz. “Merlin, you feel so good,” Simon moaned against Baz’s lips. “How could I let this go?”

He didn’t want Simon overthinking what came before. All that mattered was here and now. He loved the feeling of Simon’s belly brushing against his. He wished they could take Simon’s shirt off, but that could be saved for another time. Squeezing Simon’s arse over his jeans to press their hips more firmly together, Baz kept up a steady rocking that soon had Simon moving in delicious counterpoint. 

Until the timer beeped loudly at them.

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” Simon hissed, rolling off Baz and gasping at the ceiling. “I don’t know if I love that timer or hate it.”

Baz tapped it to shut it the fuck up and huffed his agreement. He took Simon’s hand as they laid there panting, trying to calm the rush of adrenaline and arousal. “I think I love it because that was really fucking hot.”

Simon rolled onto his side to face Baz with a cheeky grin. “Going to wank about it later?”

“Absolutely. You?”

“I - I - I’m not… I don’t - erm, I don’t know?” Simon sat up against the headboard, pulling his knees to his chest. His wings didn’t shield him completely, but definitely crowded Simon in a way that kept Baz from sitting next to him. He sat opposite Simon at the foot of the bed instead, to give him space. “I haven’t - done that - in a long time,” Simon said, stumbling over his words with a blush.

“Because of us? And the distance between us?”

Simon nodded and clutched his tail protectively. 

“That’s all right, you know.”

“Maybe. I miss it. But it was too hard…” He gave Baz a lopsided grin. “Or maybe not hard enough, right?”

Baz rolled his eyes. “That was terrible.”

“Eh, we were both thinking it.” His grin faded into something more contemplative. “It’s got better though, with the timer. And… we’re talking more. That’s good too.” 

His wings tucked in close to his back, leaving room for Baz beside him. He crawled across the bed to sit next to Simon, lacing their fingers and kissing the back of his hand. “I’m proud of you.”

“Proud of _us_ ,” Simon corrected him.

“I’m proud of us too.”

“It helps, knowing you like that I’m part demon.”

“And that you like I’m all vampire.”

“Ah, the lovely ways we match…” Simon giggled and kissed Baz’s cheek. “I’m ready for tea and biscuits. How about you?”

“Sounds perfect.”

The quiet domesticity of preparing a pot of tea and a plate of crumpets from the bakery warmed Baz in all new ways. When they’d decided to get separate flats, to give themselves space to grow a bit, it had seemed like a good idea. But now it felt like a missed opportunity to share each other in ways they never could at school. How would things have gone differently if they had to share a table for dinner each night? Would they have fallen so far apart? Maybe it didn’t matter. The situation evolved as it was meant to, and they were finding their way back together now. 

With Penny, Baz thought with a sigh. 

She sailed into the flat with a wide grin and flushed cheeks, joining them at the table and snatching a crumpet, as though there weren’t _exactly_ enough for Simon and Baz to share with none leftover for a third person. Simon winked at Baz and pushed two of the three remaining crumpets at Baz as he asked Penny about her study group.

Ha, as if Baz would leave Simon with just one lonely crumpet. He fetched a mug for Penny and the box of extra bakery goodies to share around. He smiled at his little makeshift family, and settled in for an hour or two of the usual gossip and laughter. 

He was still smiling when Simon walked him out, kissing him lightly on the cheek in goodbye with whispered promises for tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

Simon texted Baz through most of Sunday, making it difficult for Baz to concentrate on his super secret project. 

Usually he spent Sundays catching up on homework, a task he hated for the time it took away from Simon. And honestly, he didn’t enjoy his seminars. Time and again he wondered if Economics was the right choice (despite his father’s praise). As it was too late to withdraw from these seminars to pursue a new major, he’d have to suck it up for now and contemplate his future another time. 

This Sunday, instead of the usual, he’d spent the day rearranging his flat. He closed the last box, and texted Simon that he was at last ready for a visit. Ten minutes later, Simon knocked at his door.

Baz opened the door with a smile. “Right on time.” He pulled Simon in and gestured at the room. “Surprise! What do you think?”

Simon’s mouth dropped open at the changes in the large room. On the right, the kitchen table had been shrunk down and two of the chairs packed away, leaving more space in the kitchen and eating area. In the sitting room, Baz expanded the single armchair into a cosy loveseat, in front of the fireplace. He changed the large glass coffee table into a smaller end table. Most of the extra nicknacks and decorations had been packed away, as well as most of his books.

“Baz…” Simon sighed in awe. “Where is everything?” He walked a circuit of the room, glancing over shelves and furniture.

“I packed up the things I didn’t need.”

“Your books?”

“I don’t need _all_ of them here with me. I kept my favourites, and a few I mean to read soon, as well as what I need for my lectures. The rest were just taking up space. And now, they all fit on the shelves.”

“But the photos… and the - the decorations and all. What - ?”

Baz rolled his eyes. “I packed it up, Simon. Anything that I didn’t really need. I kept the important things.” Baz pointed to some framed photos tucked in with his books and a little felted doll Mordelia gave him for his birthday. “And now there’s space…” He took Simon’s hand. “For you.”

“For me?”

“For your wings.”

Simon’s mouth made an ‘O’ of surprise. He closed his eyes and rolled his shoulders, and the magic dissolved from his wings. They rustled a little before settling in close to his back. Simon walked another circuit of the room, running his hands along the kitchen counter (now free of decorative glass mixing bowls that weren’t even good for mixing). He walked a complete circle without bumping a single thing.

“You did this for me?”

“Yes. My father said he’d come to visit next weekend and pick up the boxes. He’ll keep them until I’m ready to move to a bigger place.”

“Hauling boxes in his jag?” Simon asked, his lips curling into a smile.

Baz shared in his laughter. “Daphne’s minivan. What do you think?”

“This is brilliant. I mean, I guess I feel a little guilty, making you get rid of your things…” He clutched his tail, eyes still scanning the room.

“I didn’t get rid of them, I made the space more livable. I shouldn’t have brought so much with me when I moved in in the first place.” Baz sat in the loveseat and patted the space next to him. “I want this to be a comfortable space. For both of us.”

Before Simon could join him, Baz jumped to his feet. “Wait, I forgot to show you the balcony too.” He opened the doors with a flourish, “Ta-da!” 

When he first moved in, Daphne (proud of her first baby bird leaving the nest) and Fiona (who really should have known better) gave him a whole grove of plants to take care of. As they died, Daphne eagerly replaced them, looking for the _right plant_ for the space. So far, only the desert dwellers had made it. Baz, apparently, couldn’t be bothered to water anything at all and the balcony above kept the space mostly dry.

“What happened to all your plants?” Simon asked, looking around at the half empty space.

“Well, most of them were dying so I mainly just gave in and let them go. The hardier ones I repotted. Now there’s space for _two_ of us to sit out here. Enjoy the sunset every now and again…” He cleared his throat and let himself open up a little. “I think I can hunt here, with the extra space,” he said quietly, ever mindful of potential neighbour eavesdropping.

“I can’t believe you did all this for me.” Simon’s smile warmed Baz to his very core.

“For us.”

“For us,” Simon echoed. His wings twitched. “We should…” He inclined his head at the doors, and led Baz in. They sat together on the loveseat, pressed together along their sides. Simon’s wing cradled Baz and their joined hands rested on Simon’s thigh. “I could get used to this.”

“Good.” Baz held his breath when it looked like Simon might lean in to kiss him. 

But then Simon leaned back, breaking the moment. “Did you…” He licked his lips nervously. “Did you change anything in the bedroom?”

Baz smiled in a way he knew would make Simon blush. “Actually, I did.” He stood and offered Simon his hand. “I was going to save it for later but…”

“No, now is good,” Simon said in a rush, taking Baz’s hand. “Now is really good.”

Not much could be done about the wardrobe and dresser, but Baz got rid of the large antique desk, and that opened up plenty of space. He did so much of his homework at Simon’s kitchen table, and there wasn’t any reason he couldn’t do the same at his own kitchen table.

Simon flopped down on the bed, his wings spread wide across the duvet. “Mm, roomy. Are you sad to get rid of your desk?”

“Not really. Malcolm will be glad to have it back. As often as he asked after its welfare, I don’t think he entirely trusted me to take it in the first place.”

“Come here.” Simon tugged on Baz, rustling them both around until they laid side by side, sharing one of Baz’s pillows. “You’ve been hunting more these last few days.”

“Yes, I have.”

“Does that mean you’re more _you_?”

Baz nodded.

Simon carded his fingers through Baz’s hair. “Does that mean we can make out before you go hunting tonight?”

“I don’t have a timer,” Baz said quietly.

“Yeah, I was thinking maybe… we could try without it.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“I - I think so? I _want_ to be… and that has to count for something, right?”

Baz scooted closer until their legs could intertwine comfortably. Simon’s tail slid up Baz’s thigh, over the curve of his arse, and settled at the base of his spine. “If it’s too much,” Baz whispered, “you just have to say so.”

Simon gave a jerky nod, then rolled onto Baz and kissed him deeply. Baz moaned when Simon’s wings spread open, and covered him in a cloud of Simon’s buttery soft scent. He ran a hand up Simon’s back to the gap in his t-shirt where the wings emerged. Lightly he caressed the scarred skin where wing met spine, and again when Simon shivered and arched into the touch.

Having no timer hovering on the edges of his senses helped Baz to relax into the languid kisses. Without a deadline looming over him, he could enjoy each brush of Simon’s lips along his jaw and the slow caresses along his sides. No need to hurry anymore. He spent one long minute nibbling along Simon’s plump lips, and another mapping each mole and freckle. He savoured the sighs and moans as he nipped playfully at Simon’s ear, and the deep groans when he sucked lightly along his collarbone.

Just like yesterday, Simon sat up, straddling Baz’s hips, and ran a hand down the buttons on Baz’s shirt with a questioning look. Without hesitation, Baz nodded, enjoying the blush stealing over Simon as his trembling fingers unbuttoned each one. Warm hands slid down Baz’s bare chest and belly, stopping just short of the button on his trousers. Simon swallowed heavily, then ran his hands back up Baz’s chest. 

But his hips… Aleister fucking Crowley… his _hips_ rolled against Baz, putting not-quite-enough pressure on his aching cock. He shook off his shirt and kissed Simon again as his hands burned trails along Baz’s skin. 

The sweet, yeasty scent of bread filled his head and that, coupled with the throbbing beat of Simon’s heart echoing in his ears, made Baz’s gums ache to release his fangs. He focused on the tingling sensation, doing his best to hold them in so as not to spook Simon. Huffing a hot breath over the thin flesh of Simon’s neck, Baz let his lips rest on the pulsing artery. He hugged Simon close, riding the sweet edge of sheer madness.

Fucking hell - if his fangs popped now, they’d break Simon’s skin for certain. Blood would fill his mouth…

He growled and squeezed Simon’s arse, grinding their hips together.

“Simon, you gorgeous creature…”

“Baz…” Simon cupped Baz’s cheeks and coaxed his mouth open for another deep kiss. The feel of Simon’s hands settled something in Baz and the tingling in his mouth faded to a manageable level. 

He sighed in relief now that he wasn’t on the verge of _biting_ his boyfriend. “You feel so good, love.”

He loved the feeling of Simon’s lips curling into a smile against his. And again he remembered yesterday, and the warmth of Simon’s belly pressed against his. He lifted Simon’s t-shirt so they could be skin to skin, and tried to make a mental note to ask Simon how he got his shirt off around his wings. 

“You are so fucking hot,” Baz groaned between kisses. “In all senses of the word. Gorgeous. Sexy. And so fucking _warm_ to the touch…”

“Touch me…”

“ _Yes_ ,” Baz hissed, running his hands up Simon’s back to feel the join of wings to spine again. He tilted his hips up, seeking more pressure. “Fuck, Simon, I think…” He gasped as Simon’s spade wriggled lower to the curve of his arse. “ _Fuck_ , I think I’m… I’m so close. _So close_.”

“No.”

He whispered so softly, even Baz’s vampire ears couldn’t be sure the sound was real.

“No,” Simon said more firmly, crawling backwards. Away. Moving away from Baz. “Shit. Fuck, Baz, I’m so sorry! I - I didn’t - fuck.” Simon scrambled back, tripping over his tail and Baz’s legs and tumbling to the floor. 

“Simon?” The fog of arousal made Baz slow to react but he knew he didn’t want Simon to leave.

“Damn it, I didn’t mean to - to take it so far.” He buried his hands in his curls, hunching into himself and turning away.

“Simon it’s okay. Really.” His voice turned pleading, and he hoped it didn’t scare Simon away. “Come back. We can be done. We can just hold hands. Like yesterday.” He swallowed. “Please. Please come back to me.”

Simon shook his head and his wings tightened around him.

“Oh love,” Baz whispered as he knelt on the floor next to Simon, close enough to share his warmth but not so close they actually touched. “I promise that enough is enough. It’s fine. It’s like the timer went off and we’re done now.”

Muffled behind his wings and his hands, Simon said, “I know it hurts and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You haven’t, Simon. I promise. I’m fine… And… And I don’t want to hurt you either.”

Simon’s shoulder dropped and his head tilted. Good, that meant he was listening.

“I could have bitten you. Earlier. But I didn’t.” He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Trust me, Simon, all the ways I could hurt you are so much worse than the ways you _think_ you could hurt me. A persistent erection never killed anyone.”

An eternity passed in silence, until Simon’s wings relaxed a little more. Simon braced his hand against the floor, just under his wing. “You’re not mad at me?” Simon asked in a small voice.

“No, love, I’m not mad. I promise.” 

The hand crept out from beneath the wing, and Baz rested his fingers on top of Simon’s. 

“No one likes a tease,” Simon said, his voice quiet, yet (almost) playful. 

Baz exhaled in relief. His words had gotten through to Simon. “It’s a really fine line between _teasing_ and _edging_ , Simon,” he said, aiming for seductive playfulness. He ducked out of the way as a wing passed close to his face when Simon turned. Baz scooted closer, resting his head on Simon’s shoulder. “I like it,” Baz whispered. “I like all of you.”

Simon’s lips brushed Baz’s cheek in an almost-kiss. “I like all of you too,” he whispered.

“Let’s go sit on the balcony. Change of scenery, fresh air. We’ll calm down together, okay?”

“Okay.” Simon hesitated a moment before buttoning Baz’s shirt for him. “Thank you. For not letting me leave.”

Baz smiled warmly at the blush across Simon’s cheeks. “Thank you for staying.”

\-------

Simon (3:14 pm): I’m off work early. Can I join you for coffee before your night seminar?  
Baz (3:15 pm): Absolutely. See you at 5, the usual place.

Baz (4:42 pm): Seminar was canceled!  
Simon (4:43 pm): Let’s get dinner. A date.  
Baz (4:43 pm): A DATE!  
Simon (4:44 pm): We haven’t done that in a while and you deserve it. I’m already on my way. Let’s meet at the coffee shop and find somewhere nearby.  
Baz (4:44 pm): *kiss kiss*

\--------

Baz stared at his phone, rereading the last few messages again. A date. A real date. With Simon.

He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but it felt like a really big deal. Early in the summer, as Simon hid his wings (and by extension more and more of himself), dating had fallen by the wayside. They’d grown accustomed to the comfort of Simon’s flat to avoid the stares of strangers that made Simon jittery. After the shaky events of last night, was this a good choice for them - a date in public?

They’d worked through things well enough though, hadn’t they? As they’d sat on Baz’s balcony and stared out at the lights of the city, Simon had seemed calm. Even when the temperature dropped, and saner people would have sat by the fire, Simon stayed with Baz, huddling together for warmth. He’d kissed him goodbye on the cheek and then flew - fucking flew like a demon (bird? dragon?) - to his flat across town.

“It’s faster than walking. More fun too,” he’d grinned. 

He didn’t even care that someone might see him. “It’s too dark and anyway, no one has yet, right?”

No, things were fine, and this would give them a chance to talk without the bedroom nearby and the potential for snogging to cloud their thinking. 

A chirping whistle caught Baz’s attention. “Simon,” Baz said in greeting, a smile already in place. “It’s early for dinner. Want to go for a walk?”

“Good idea.”

Simon didn’t take his hand, but they walked close enough to bump arms and fingers every so often. “Claudia is back at the bakery this week. She’s filling in some odd hours here and there to get back in the habit, and then she’ll take weekends again.”

“I’ll bet Maris is glad for some time off at last.”

“For sure. She told Claudia to bring the new baby with her if she wanted, but Claudia said she needs the break. But I’ve seen her with little Maya and I don’t think she’ll be able to leave her behind for a whole day. I guess we’ll see how it goes.”

The nearby park had children running wild and parents sitting on the scattered benches looking exhausted. He and Simon continued along the path that circled the park, keeping an eye out for stray children, pets, and the odd ball or frisbee that might come flying out of nowhere.

“I’m thinking of switching majors,” Baz said, when Simon asked about his day. 

“Really?” Simon nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, okay, I can see that, I guess.”

“My Economics seminars have all been a slog, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy as I was when my professor emailed to say tonight’s was canceled. I just don’t think this is me.”

“What’ll you do instead?”

“I don’t know yet. Registration for next term is at the end of November. I suppose I have until then to figure it out.”

Simon gave him a reassuring smile. “I’ll support whatever you decide. And I’m sure you’ll be brilliant at whatever it is.”

Baz bumped their shoulders together. “Thank you for the vote of confidence. I’ll need it when I tell Malcolm.”

“Oof, that’s going to be rough. We should invite Fiona along when we tell him. She’ll keep us safe.”

“We?”

“I wouldn’t send you in there alone! If this is a decision you’ve made, I won’t have your father trying to change your mind.”

“Even if he’s paying for my education?” That worried Baz more than it ought to. Malcolm paid all his expenses and getting cut off financially was a very real, very painful possibility.

Simon shrugged insolently, “I still have a bag of leprechaun gold. That can pay for your way well enough.”

“Glad to hear I have a sugar daddy to keep me in the life I’m accustomed to.”

“And… free artisan breads.” Simon tried to raise one eyebrow at Baz, but as usual, it just made him look goofy.

Baz grinned and bumped their shoulders together again. “That is definitely my favourite perk of this whole relationship.”

“It’s just after six. Should we look for a place to eat?”

It still felt early to Baz, but Simon always had an appetite. They weren’t too far from Simon’s flat and he pointed out a diner that he and Penny went to frequently for brunch on Sundays. Baz had only been once or twice, since he mostly spent Sundays at his flat.

“Is that…” Simon pulled the door open, setting the bells jingling, and walked straight to a booth with... “Penny? What are you doing here?” He glanced at the scrawny bloke sitting across from her with a frown. “And who’s this?”

“Simon! I thought you were busy.” She glared at Baz. “And you - don’t you have class?”

“You’re Simon?” the stranger said, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. He gave Simon a once-over, and seemed to deflate a little. He stood and offered his hand to shake. “I’m David, I’m a - a friend of Penny’s.” He was several inches shorter than Simon, and so slender that Simon could snap him like a twig. And David seemed to fear this as a possibility with the way he flinched as Simon shook his hand.

“You may as well sit down,” Penny said with a defeated sigh, moving over to make room. Immediately, Simon sat next to Penny, staring at David intently. David fiddled with his fork, giving Simon a nervous smile.

Baz crossed his arms, refusing to settle in here. “Simon,” Baz said curtly. “We’re not sitting with them.”

“Yes we are. How do you know Penny?”

“He’s in my Sociology group. He’s twenty years old, studying Abnormal Psychology, and has two sisters and a brother. He works weekends at a soup kitchen and loves to travel. Okay? Now go away, Simon.”

“Is this a date?” Simon asked, harshly enough that David’s eyes widened.

“Yes,” Penny said, at the same time David squeaked, “No!” The poor idiot looked like a mouse caught between two foxes, with both Penny and Simon glaring at him for different reasons.

Baz could read between the lines well enough and tugged on Simon’s arm. “All right, Snow, enough is enough. Penny doesn’t need you interfering.”

David held his hands up defensively as Simon leaned in to whisper harshly, “You’re lucky my boyfriend’s here to talk sense into me - “

“You’re gay?” David let out a wild sigh of relief and folded over until his head hit the table. “Oh thank god!” He sat up, grinning. “I thought you were a jealous, secretly pining roommate about to end me.”

Simon spluttered and mentioned something about Penny being like a sister while Baz tugged him out of the booth. “We’re going now. David, take care of Penny -”

“Penny can take care of herself!” Penelope Bunce hissed to all three of them.

“- and I promise to keep Simon in check. It was nice to meet you, and we’ll have to do this again when Simon has some advanced warning and can behave himself. Have fun you two.”

Baz dragged a mildly irritated Simon out of the diner. They found an Italian café two streets over for dinner instead.

Simon snapped his napkin indignantly and then twisted it around his hands instead of laying it in his lap. “Penny’s met someone! When did that happen?”

“Sociology group. I suppose we have an explanation for all that texting and smiling. Do you think it’s serious?”

“Penny with a Normal?” Simon asked. “I don’t know. What will her parents say?”

“Maybe she doesn’t care what her parents say.”

“She should. She’s in the same financial support loop you are.”

“Good thing you have all that leprechaun gold then.” Baz smiled as the waitress came up to their table with a fake smile plastered on her face.

“Welcome to the Vineyard. My name is Victoria, I’ll be your server this evening. Is this one bill or two?”

“Er, one,” Simon said calmly despite the blush splashing across his cheeks.

Victoria, completely unfazed, nodded and flipped a page on her ordering pad. “Great, and what can I get you gentlemen to drink?”

Baz had entered the café thinking they’d play off this dinner as friends meeting up, but Simon ordered their drinks and then leaned into Baz so they could share a single menu. He teased Baz for ordering being so predictable with his food selection, and then ordered for both of them when Victoria returned. Simon traded bites of their meals with Baz, and then ordered a single dessert for the two of them to share. Everything about Simon screamed to the outside world that this was a date.

A real date with his boyfriend.

What brought on this complete turnaround in Simon? A few days ago he didn’t even want to stand too close to Baz, and now they were sharing a slice of cheesecake where everyone could see them? He feared asking might yank it all away.

Simon paid the bill and they started walking to his flat. “You think Penny’s back yet?”

“If she is, you’re not going to interrogate her, all right? She’s a grown woman and allowed to date who she likes.”

Simon’s shoulders slumped, “I know that it’s just… Why didn’t she tell me? I can see wanting to keep it secret from her parents but… we don’t have any secrets!”

“Mm, right… and how soon after we kissed did you tell her about _us_?”

Crowley, that blush made Baz want to kiss him again, right here on the street for everyone to see.

“Well… I had other things - and I was - trying to figure out - I didn’t…”

“Right, well Penny might also be waiting until she’s figured some things out. Go easy on her.”

Simon rubbed the spade of his tail through his shirt with a sheepish shrug. “I guess I can do that.”

As they climbed the stairs to Simon’s flat, Baz smiled and brushed his fingers against Simon’s. “I had fun tonight. On our date.”

“Yeah. Me too.” He had his thinking face on, so Baz didn’t try to fill the silence. He was rewarded when Simon spilled a torrent of excited words on the next flight of stairs. “I’m trying to keep in mind what it was like - before, at the beginning for us, when I didn’t care about everyone’s opinion. It’s time I stop worrying my wings are going to pop out at any time and everyone’s going to stare at me like I’m a freak.”

“You’ve done remarkably well, Simon, all things considered.”

“Well, I had help. And now… I feel like I’m all right with things. We feel like a matched set again, me with my demon wings and you with your vampire fangs. And we’re getting there with the timer.” He unlocked the door to his flat and collapsed on the sofa. “Come sit with me.”

It warmed Baz that Simon could so easily ask for comfort, but of course Penny loomed in the back of his mind. “What if Penny comes back?”

“Lock the door so we have a warning.”

Baz did exactly that and laid next to Simon on the sofa. His fingers carded through Baz’s hair. “I’m glad we’re back to snuggling on the sofa again,” Simon said quietly.

“Me too.” 

Was this a good time to bring up the timer, or rather the _lack_ of a timer, from yesterday? They couldn’t avoid the topic forever. And Baz had learned the hard way that not everything could be left poetically unsaid.

Baz kissed Simon’s temple and leaned back to ask, “What did you think of yesterday? With no timer.” Simon sighed heavily and Baz shoved his face back with a laugh, “Don’t breath right on my face!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Simon grinned. “I wasn’t thinking.” He wriggled down so he could rest his head on Baz’s chest. “Parts of it were good. But others not so much.”

“What was the hardest part?”

“I don’t know how to stop. When to stop.” His breath hitched as if he might say more, so Baz waited before interjecting his opinion. “I like the limit because then I don’t have to think about it.”

When it was clear Simon wasn’t going to say anymore, Baz asked, “And the best part?”

Simon’s body softened against him in a subtle shifting of muscle that, although barely discernible, lit Baz’s body up. Simon tilted his head up to graze his lips along Baz’s neck. “That moment, when we first kiss - it makes me want to fly. And without a timer, that feeling can last forever.”

“Fuck, Simon,” Baz whispered. He cupped Simon’s cheek, wanting so badly to claim those lips, to make Simon fly so he could fly along with him. 

“Kiss me now.”

All the heat and desire Baz held in check were let loose against Simon’s pliant, welcoming body. He opened eagerly to Baz’s questing tongue and shifted his legs to cradle Baz between his thighs. Baz splayed his fingers across the soft leather of one of Simon’s wings, and Simon responded by moaning and arching his hips up into Baz. His tail wrapped around Baz’s thigh, anchoring him to Simon and the world.

Until Simon broke away, panting. “Let’s get the timer and go to my room.”

“Yes. Brilliant.”

Both of them stumbled to their feet, giggly and flushed with desire. Simon grabbed the timer and dragged Baz to his room. 

“Five minutes all right?” Baz asked as he tapped the timer (even though his body screamed for ten, twenty, forty). Simon never had any problem with five minutes, and he didn’t want a repeat of yesterday’s panic.

Simon bit his lip, as though he might protest, but then nodded. Baz pressed ‘start’ and tossed it towards the foot of the bed, pulling Simon in for another kiss. Crowley, he loved the heat of Simon’s mouth, the slick, sweet taste of him that unleashed a burning flood of _want_. He rolled them carefully (so as not to bend Simon’s wing) and swallowed each moan from Simon’s mouth.

He loved how freely Simon’s wings and tail embraced him. If only he’d taken his shirt off before they started, he could feel the soft leather on his naked skin. Simon’s tail worked its way under his shirt, pressing against his spine, and he took that as a delicious second-best scenario. Baz’s hand skimmed Simon’s thigh, until he reached the thick rope of his tail. He tugged lightly on it, making Simon arch his hips up into Baz.

“I love your hands on my tail… my wings… everywhere…”

“Good, because I love touching you everywhere.”

Simon tucked his head into Baz’s neck to hide the flush in his cheeks. The heat of it warmed Baz’s chilled skin. 

And as usual, the timer beeped entirely too fucking early.

“No,” Simon whined, gripping Baz’s shirt tighter and draping his leg and tail over Baz’s thighs. “I was snuggling with you!”

“We can still snuggle. Let me at least shut it off.” Baz wriggled away and tapped the timer to stop the infernal beeping. He laid back down, half covering Simon. Simon’s arms eagerly came around him and he once again buried his face in Baz’s neck. “Are you all right?”

Simon managed a shrug, even with the weight of Baz keeping him still. “Five minutes isn’t enough. But ten is too many.”

“We could try seven?” Baz suggested. Was there an exact right number? What worked today might not necessarily work tomorrow.

“That’s not even a round number!”

Baz scoffed. “So? Neither is five.”

“It’s an honorary round number.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“And yet it makes complete sense if you think about it for a moment.” After a beat of silence, Simon said, “I want another five minutes.”

“Are you sure?” Baz asked even as he sat up to retrieve the timer. “We don’t have to.”

He barely had time to hit start before Simon was in his lap, running his hands through Baz’s hair and growling against his mouth. These kisses demanded more and Baz responded eagerly. Until once again, drenched in adrenaline and arousal, Baz felt the tingling in his gums that preceded his fangs dropping. But fuck if he could handle that right now. He sucked a line of kisses down Simon’s neck, to give himself a moment to get himself together.

“Baz… you feel so good in my arms…” Simon leaned into the kisses Baz left on his collarbone, grasping Baz’s hair to hold him close. Slowly he rolled his hips, driving Baz insane. “You're so hard… Should we stop?”

“No,” Baz bit out, claiming Simon’s mouth with a deep, wet kiss. He could take care of the throbbing in his pants later. For now, he wanted to savour the sweet scent and taste of Simon for as long as possible - in this case, a bonus, special, extra five whole minutes _more_.

Briefly it flitted through his mind that Simon regretted the second round - _great snakes_ he was just as hard as Baz - and perhaps he posed the question as an ‘out’ of sorts. Baz dismissed the thought as unlikely, more interested in the weight of Simon straddling his lap, and the _not-quite-enough_ friction that kept him hovering on the edge of too much. 

He loved riding that edge with the beautiful, wild man in his arms. Simon burned like the fire that sometimes danced through Baz’s fingers. The focus and care it required to keep himself from going up in flames also kept him grounded, and the same held true with Simon. All his senses sharpened to take in everything Simon had to offer - the slick heat of his mouth, the comforting weight of his body, and the heady scent of fresh baked bread. Baz wanted to sink into all of it and never emerge.

But that fucking _timer_ , both blessing and curse.

Baz reached behind him and smashed randomly on buttons until the sound cut off. Simon stayed in his lap, panting against his neck. Baz hugged him lightly, trailing his fingers up and down Simon’s spine. After half a minute of silence, Baz picked up on a slight trembling in Simon’s body.

“Are you all right?” he whispered.

Simon responded by gripping tighter, squeezing Baz’s hips with his thighs, and pressing his face harder into Baz’s neck.

“Okay,” Baz said, holding Simon closer. He ran a hand up Simon’s back to massage his scalp and neck to sooth him. “It’s all right Simon.”

Simon inhaled shakily and mumbled, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Snogging your fit vampire boyfriend.” Baz dropped a kiss on Simon’s curls. “And now we’re resting a bit before I go home.”

Baz got a broken, sad laugh for that one. Simon pulled away, but kept his head tilted down at such an angle that Baz couldn’t see his face. “I mean I don’t know what I’m doing with any of it.”

“Okay.” Baz offered the single word to indicate he was listening, but didn’t really know where to take things from there. Without any idea where the conversation was going, he had no choice but to sit patiently and wait for Simon to pull his words together. 

After an eternity of silence, Simon’s trembling stilled and he pulled away to sit against the headboard with his wings wrapped around him. Baz followed, sitting close enough to be a support if Simon wanted a hand to hold. And indeed, seconds later, his hand slid out from underneath his wing. Baz laced their fingers together and waited.

“You know, back at school, you were always around. And in a crowded care home, there wasn’t ever a moment alone.”

“I had to go to the Catacombs to escape you, and sometimes even that didn’t work.”

Simon’s wings relaxed a fraction. “It did after fifth year. I couldn’t go back after we…”

“I know,” Baz said quietly, remembering when Simon found him drunk and rambling. What an awful night.

“That lack of privacy… made it hard to… you know, _take care_ of things.”

Was Simon trying to tell Baz that he didn’t (or maybe couldn’t) wank? The situation would have been funny if it had been anyone else in any other place. But his Simon, hurting here in his own bed sliced Baz’s heart open.

“But you’ve been in your own flat and your own room for months now. Hasn’t that made it easier for you?”

“N-not really. Penny’s just across the hall and honestly I can’t stop… I keep thinking about us… you know, doing _things_ \- l-like sex - and… I don’t know if I can handle… all that.” 

“Ah, I see.” 

Simon hadn’t had an easy eighth year at Watford. He’d broken up with Agatha, befriended Baz, fought the Humdrum, and unintentionally led to the death of his emotionally abusive father-figure. And mixed into all that, started snogging a boy for the first time. He’d agonised over his sexuality until his therapist said it wasn’t even in the top five of things to worry about.

But maybe now the time came to worry about it. Or at least think it through thoroughly. Baz knew he was one hundred percent gay, specifically for Simon Snow, and didn’t have any trouble imagining the two of them naked, entwined, and getting off together in a myriad of ways.

This clearly didn’t come as easily to Simon, who probably never imagined two blokes together at all. And if he had a hard time getting himself off, how could he possibly think about getting someone else off? No wonder sex worked him up in such a negative way.

How could Baz fix his? What could he say? He wasn’t a therapist of any kind, and worried he might make Simon worse if he said something stupid or insensitive (always a possibilitiy). But this was his boyfriend, his terrible, lovely boyfriend, and he couldn’t leave him thinking Baz hated him for feeling uncertain about sex.

“Oh Simon, my lovely, beautiful idiot, it’s okay to feel nervous about things. We don’t have to think about all of that all at once. Sex is a big step and we’re not anywhere near ready for it. It could be you’re eager when the time comes.”

Baz sat flush against Simon so his entire side pressed into Simon’s wing, and rearranged their hands to hold Simon’s hand more firmly. “There are some couples - both gay and straight - that never have any sex at all. That could be us, if you’re not comfortable with it.”

He almost laughed when Simon’s tail slid into the scant space between them and wrapped around Baz’s ankle. Sometimes his tail and wings acted of their own accord… and sometimes Simon directed them. Was this accidental or on purpose?

“We can continue taking things slowly and cross that bridge when we get to it. It’s working well enough so far.” Baz laughed lightly. “I never thought I’d say this but - you’re overthinking things, Snow.”

A slow laugh became outright giggling from behind Simon’s wings. As they died down, his wings shifted to make space for Baz. He eagerly snuggled into Simon, resting his head on Simon’s shoulder. 

“Things were easier when I didn’t think of anything at all,” Simon said, nuzzling his cheek on Baz’s hair.

“You know what you need? A good wank.”

Simon’s laughter exploded and he tackled Baz to the bed to tickle him mercilessly. Baz shrieked in protest, and let Simon pin him to the bed, his wings spread wide over them. He lifted his head to plant a kiss on Simon’s grinning mouth. Awkward yet perfect all at the same time.

Biting his plump, kiss-swollen lip, Simon sat back on his heels and let Baz sit up. “I’m scared.”

“It’s all right.” Baz gave an experimental roll of his hips and raised one eyebrow when he felt the hard press of Simon’s persistent erection. “I think you can still manage it.”

A deep flush of red splashed across Simon’s freckled cheeks. 

“My sweet Simon, you are so gorgeous.” He brushed a light kiss across Simon’s cheek and wriggled out from underneath him. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going home early -” he held a hand up to halt Simon’s protest. “I’m going home early and you’re going to stay here and wank your worries away. I’ll silence the door for you so you don’t have to worry about Penny. And then you’re going to text me all about it so I can wank about it too.” Simon’s mouth dropped and a high pitched squeak escaped. Baz grinned at him, “Oh yes, I’m definitely going to be wanking while thinking of you doing the same.”

“Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch! How can you - you can’t just _say_ that!”

“Funny, because I believe I just did. Stop worrying about the distant future, and start enjoying right now. All right?”

Simon looked like a lost lamb, bewildered and innocent in the centre of his mussed bed. Hesitantly he nodded with a lopsided smile.

“Good. Have fun, love, all right? And I’ll see you tomorrow.” He winked and blew Simon a kiss before closing the door behind him. He whispered a spell and the door glowed yellow, wrapping Simon’s room in silence so he could enjoy himself.

On impulse, Baz stopped on the second floor landing, pulled up his shirt and snapped a picture of his clenched abs. He texted it to Simon before he had time to think too hard about it.

Baz (7:52 pm): In case you need inspiration *kiss kiss*

It probably didn’t mean anything that Simon didn’t text him back all night.

\--------

Baz walked from one lecture to the next, obsessively checking his phone with an ever-increasing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach, and not listening to a single word anyone said to him. He deleted the last picture and text he’d sent to Simon because it hurt to see it unanswered in the thread.

Had he scared Simon off? Put too much pressure on him? He walked home (in pouring rain that matched his sour mood) wondering about his next move. Should he go over to Simon’s flat as usual, or stay home and let Simon come to him when he was ready? He stood by his front door, feeling like an idiot in his indecision.

Stay, definitely stay.

Kicking off his shoes, he curled up on the loveseat with a throw blanket and a cup of tea. He was too keyed up to actually drink it, but holding the warm mug in his hands kept him from spiralling into panic. 

The knock at the door startled him into splashing lukewarm tea all over himself.

“Aleister Crowley,” he grumbled, balling up the blanket to wash later. He didn’t trust his magic for even a simple cleaning spell. He threw open the door to a sopping wet Simon Snow. 

Immediately Simon wrapped him in a tight hug, soaking Baz’s clothes. “Baz, love, I’m so sorry.” He stepped back and shoved his wet curls from his face. “Can I come in?”

Still in shock, and not quite sure what was happening, Baz of course opened the door wider to let Simon in.

“I’m so sorry. I just - last night… I fell dead asleep after I -” Simon’s cheeks reddened. “I slept straight through ‘til morning, and didn’t hear Penny knocking to wake me - because of the silencing spell on the door. And I was late for work. Forgot my phone and… I’m so sorry. Maris let me off early again today, because of Claudia, so I came straight here.” 

“You’re not angry with me?”

“No! No, not at all.” Simon reached for him and Baz took his hand.

“You’re soaked.”

“It’s raining.”

He helped Simon out of his wet jacket and got a towel to dry his hair. “Do you want a dry shirt? Or trackies?”

“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about my clothes. Baz,” he pulled Baz to the kitchen, so as not to soak the loveseat as well. “I haven’t seen my phone all day, but either you texted me all day and I didn’t respond, or you didn’t text me at all - and either way, you were probably worried.”

He was, but he didn’t want Simon to be upset over a simple mistake. 

“I’m sorry. About not texting you last night.” He grinned, and Baz relaxed a fraction. It was an innocent mistake, and they were fine. “Baz, that pic of you… Damn, I was _not_ expecting that and it was really fucking hot.” He blushed down at his lap, fiddling with the spade of his tail. “I… actually I finished _twice_. And literally passed out.” He pressed his lips together against a shy smile. 

Baz sighed at the ceiling as a wave of desire washed through him. “Simon, you sexy fuck! All is forgiven.” 

The look Simon gave him made Baz feel bold enough to come around the table and straddle his lap. Simon’s eyes widened in delight as his hands came to rest on Baz’s hips, and he grinned when Baz said, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

He kissed Simon’s chilled lips, delving deep into the sweet heat of his mouth, until both of them were flushed and panting. “I bought a timer,” Baz said softly. “To leave here, just in case.”

Simon dumped Baz backwards as he leapt to his feet. “Then what are we doing here? Let’s go to your room.”

Baz pulled the timer from the fridge and followed Simon to his room. “Want dry clothes now?”

For a split second, Baz could see Simon’s thoughts written all over his face - that he could just take all his wet clothes off and be done with it. But he bit his lip and nodded instead. Baz found a t-shirt and the thinnest pyjama bottoms he owned for Simon to wear. He took the opportunity to change into his pyjamas as well - simple ones to match Simon. His heart rate spiked when Simon - so much broader in the shoulders than Baz - came back with the t-shirt stretched to the limit. And fuck, the pyjama bottoms rode low enough on his hips (to allow his tail to move freely) that a light tug would drop them completely.

This was surely going to be the best five minutes of Baz’s life.

Baz yanked back the duvet and pressed Simon to the bed, determined to saturate his sheets with Simon’s buttery, yeasty scent so he could wank to it over the next week. “Let your wings out,” he said around the sudden dryness in his throat. He needed Simon to take up as much space as possible; larger surface area meant more of his scent left behind.

Simon raised himself up on his elbows and leaned his head back with his eyes closed. If Baz were a very different sort of vampire, he’d slide his fangs into the long column of Simon’s neck on display right now. But he was better than that. He had more _control_ than that. As Simon’s wings shimmered into view and spread across the duvet, Baz inhaled deeply and focused on sheathing his fangs.

The task proved all the harder when Simon gave him a wicked, almost _knowing_ grin. “Like what you see?”

“Sexy little fuck,” Baz growled, licking at his fangs. “You know I do.”

“Should we pause the timer? Do you need to feed first?”

Baz closed his eyes and focused. He could do this, he just needed a moment. And time was ticking away. The sudden panic - that he would miss out on his five minutes, even if the timer could easily be reset - brought Baz an odd sort of calm, enough to retract his fangs. He straddled Simon’s hips and slowly bent forward for a long, lingering kiss. Through the thin fabric of their pyjama bottoms, he felt Simon’s cock hardening, driving Baz’s arousal ever higher.

“Yes,” he whispered, rocking his hips against Simon. When Simon’s wings wrapped around Baz, he pressed them back to the bed. “I want your scent on my sheets.” He stroked one leathery wing and drew out another soft kiss. “I’m going to sleep tonight, wrapped in your scent.”

“Baz,” Simon croaked, “that’s so hot.”

“ _You’re_ so hot. You’re a fucking wet dream come to life - in my clothes, on my bed, spread out like a delicious feast.” He ducked his head to skim his lips along the throbbing pulse at Simon’s neck.

The timer chimed and Simon’s groan mirrored Baz’s own. He felt blindly on the bed for it, sitting up just enough to turn it off, before collapsing half on top of Simon. He continued stroking the soft red leather of Simon’s wing, and savoured the feel of Simon’s hand running up and down his back.

“I love that timer, and I fucking hate it with every fibre of my being,” Simon said into the silence.

That startled Baz into a loud burst of laughter. “My thoughts exactly.”

“Can’t deny it’s helped us loads, though.” Simon’s hand continued up, lightly carding through Baz’s hair. “Last night did too.”

“Want to tell me how it went?”

Simon turned onto his side, cradling Baz and nuzzling the top of his head. “I don’t know. It feels stupid to say it’s personal when I’ve got my hard dick ready to duel your hard dick right now.”

“Aleister Crowley, Snow!”

Simon giggled and wiggled his hips in what was probably meant to be a lewd manner. Baz pinched playfully at Simon’s hips, his sides, and his arse. “Berk,” Baz laughed, “I’m trying to have a moment here!”

“I’m _having_ a moment!”

“A serious, loving and supportive moment!”

Simon yanked his wing out from under Baz (making him yelp in an undignified way) and rolled them both to pin Baz to the bed. He nuzzled Baz’s nose, his lips, his cheeks and said in a low voice, “I thought of you.” His lips _almost_ kissed Baz. When Baz lifted his head to meet Simon, the fucking tease pulled every so slightly away. “I thought of running my hands down the smooth line of your sexy abs and tugging on your posh trousers - just enough to see,” his hips rolled seductively against Baz and their hard cocks brushed together through the thin fabric, “what exactly it is you have on offer.”

“Simon,” Baz rasped out. “Fuck…”

“Fuck indeed.” He sat up abruptly, searching the bed beside them. “I want five more minutes.”

“ _Yes_...” 

Baz set the timer and dropped it to the bed. Simon leaned over him - so reminiscent of their first night spent kissing - and made Baz reach for it again and again. This time though, the scent of Simon didn’t burn like a scorched forest, but offered the soft comfort of home. Fresh baked bread, gentle kisses, and a warm bed. 

No time at all passed when the timer went off once again. 

Simon silenced it with a wry smile. “I fucking hate it.”

“Then why are we still using it?”

“The cool down period is nice.”

“I suppose.”

Baz got to cradle Simon this time and ran his hand through Simon’s curls while Simon rested his head on Baz’s shoulder.

“I don’t know how to pace myself.”

“I’m well aware,” Baz laughed into Simon’s curls.

“I can’t hold back and the timer keeps me from a meltdown.”

“I know. That’s why we love it too. It’s all right, I don’t mind the break. I like this too.”

Simon’s hand idly caressed Baz’s side and his spade came to rest on Baz’s hip. As much as he loved their shared kisses, these close cuddles might be what Baz missed most about their physical distance. At least right now it felt that way. The warmth of Simon along his length made Baz almost giddy with happiness. He looked forward to the time when he and Simon shared a bed all the time, and he could fall asleep like this every night.

“We might have got along better at Watford if I’d been better at wanking.”

Baz snorted a laugh. “I suppose it’s never too late to learn.”

“Are you going to start texting me more sexy photos?”

“I don’t know, I felt sort of stupid sending that first one.”

“I liked it.” Simon’s wing twitched, as though he wanted to hide again, but then it settled against his back. “It kept me thinking about right now. Instead of worrying about some point down the line when we might -” His words cut off with a vague gesture of his hand.

Baz squeezed him and kissed the top of his head. “Don’t agonise over it. We’ll take it one step at a time, and just do what feels right for us. It’s fine if some things never leave the realm of fantasy.”

“Do you - think about it? Us having sex?”

“I’ve thought about having you in a million different ways Simon, but all of it in that vague sort of way a virgin always does. Most of it is improbable or impossible. I’ve never had a boyfriend before and have no idea of what might work or what either of us might like. So yes, I’ve thought about sex but nothing specific and nothing I can’t live without.”

“Okay.” After a beat of silence, Simon said, “I want another five minutes.”

Baz laughed, “When did you become such a greedy goose?”

“I don’t know, sometime last night between rounds one and two.” He bit Baz’s chest playfully (ignoring his whine of protest). “I didn’t know it could be like that.” He sat up, straddling Baz’s thighs and staring intently into his eyes. “I spent years having to ignore it or suffer through it. Fast and furious and completely unsatisfying wanks in the worst places.”

“I’d have paid money to see that.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “Then you told me to stop acting like I’m still living that life. And I did. And now I’m in _this_ life - with you - and I want…” He handed the timer to Baz. “I want to be okay with wanting you the way I do.”

“Well I can’t argue with that.” Baz set the timer and tossed it aside, uncaring that it bounced off the bed to the floor. He rolled Simon to the bed and devoured his sweet, rosebud mouth. 

Their moans mingled as Baz ground his hips against Simon. His erection hadn’t faded at all since they started and the sweet ache of it pressed to Simon’s matching hardness made Baz lightheaded in the best way. Could they come like this? If he kept up this steady rhythm and let himself tip over the edge, and brought Simon along with him - would Simon freak out? Or would he eagerly follow where Baz led? 

“Take this off,” Simon growled, tugging on Baz’s shirt.

Without hesitation, Baz whipped the t-shirt off and threw it behind him. “You too,” he said, uncaring if the action tore the shirt around Simon’s wings.

But the shirt slid right over Simon’s head. Baz frowned, momentarily distracted. “How did you do that?”

“I don’t know. The wings used to shred my t-shirts but sometime over the summer - when we started using **now you see me, now you don’t** instead of Penny’s bell spell - it just sort of melted away whole instead.”

Something about it sent an odd tingle down Baz’s spine. Or maybe that was Simon’s spade tracing a line down his back. Simon pulled him in for a kiss, running his hands and spade all over Baz’s exposed skin.

“Fuck, Baz, you are so _hard_ and it’s weird and sexy and I don’t know…” Simon panted against Baz’s hair as Baz sucked hard on the tender flesh of his neck. “I want…” He broke off on a moan, arching up into Baz.

“What? What do you want? Anything…”

But he didn’t get to hear what Simon wanted because the timer went off.

So did Simon.

“No!” he hissed. His tail whipped around Baz’s bicep like a grappling hook, tugging him in close. His voice, low and gravel, echoed as though layered twice over, “ _Don’t stop_!” as the timer exploded in a shower of tiny pieces of plastic and circuitry. 

And the rich, heavy scent of fresh baked bread filled the room - thick enough to be almost tangible.

Simon and Baz froze, eyes widening and their near-nakedness forgotten.

“D-did you - was that you?” Simon asked.

Baz shook his head and they scrambled to the edge of the bed, eyes drawn to the littered mess of the shattered timer. “Simon… I think you spoke with magic.”

“But that’s - no - I didn’t.” He scrambled back against the headboard and pulled his knees to his chest, _almost_ cradling himself in his wings. “My magic is gone. I gave it to the Humdrum.”

“That was… _I_ didn’t break the timer.”

“I don’t have any magic, Baz! I gave it away and I’ve spent almost eleven months learning to live without it! It’s gone! That wasn’t me!”

“Okay,” Baz said softly, holding out his hands in a placating motion. “Okay, it’s fine.”

“It wasn’t me. I can’t have done it.” Simon hunched down into his knees.

“It’s fine, it’s all right.” Carefully he pulled Simon into a hug. Simon’s arms wrapped around him with crushing force, followed by his wings. Locked in the cocoon with Simon, Baz crooned softly to calm him. “It’s all right, love.”

“It wasn’t me.”

Simon’s small voice tugged at Baz’s heart, and he desperately wished he knew what to say to fix it. But all he could do was stroke Simon’s curls and whisper, “It’s all right.”


	6. Epilogue

Baz paced circles around Simon’s sitting room, dodging Penny with each pass because she also needed to pace, and for some frustrating reason had to move in the opposite direction.

“Shouldn’t he be back by now?”

“I don’t know!” Baz hissed for the fourth time. “Who knows what tests Dr Wellbelove might run and how long they’ll take?”

“We should have gone with him!”

Baz made a non-committal sound. They’d had this exact conversation too many times to count today. Both of them skived off lectures, knowing they’d be useless all day. Neither of them had eaten much for lunch either. 

He’d held Simon all through the long night - offering him soothing words when he jolted awake, and massaging his back and scalp to coax him back to sleep. Not exactly how he pictured their first sleepover at his flat.

Simon dressed silently this morning and held Baz in a hug that lasted almost ten minutes, before leaving - alone, as he insisted - for Dr Wellbelove’s office. Penny and Baz had been worrying and pacing ever since.

Just as Baz poured yet another mug of tea, the door opened. Simon trudged into the kitchen, found a mug, and collapsed into his chair. Penny and Baz sat with him, neither knowing what exactly to say. Nothing to do but wait for Simon to speak.

While Penny and Baz fairly vibrated with nerves, Simon silently reached for the teapot and poured himself a splash of tea. He set the teapot down with a thud, his eyes frighteningly vacant.

Penny, bless her impatient heart, finally blurted out, “Well? What did Dr Wellbelove have to say?”

Simon pulled Baz’s cup of tea closer and said, “Imagine this is your magic.” He poured more tea into the cup, making it overflow onto the table. Over Penny’s shriek at the mess, Simon continued, “And this is the amount of magic you are accustomed to…”

Penny quietly siphoned off the mess with her ring. Simon shoved his own mug up against Baz’s with a loud clatter. “Suddenly, this mug seems empty, doesn’t it?”

Baz stared at the overflowing mug and the nearly empty mug, then up at Penny. “Are you saying…”

“Apparently I’m accustomed to an overflowing mug and haven’t noticed that my previously empty mug has begun to fill again.”

Penny gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh Simon...” she exhaled.

“Don’t,” Simon said abruptly, shoving away from the table and starting to pace in tight, agitated circles. He buried his hands in his hair. “I was _fine_! I was fine without magic and learning to be myself again and now _this_?”

“But Simon, you love mag-”

“No, Penny! No - just - _please stop_!” His words had that heavy, layered quality again and Penny reared back in surprise. Could she smell it? The soft, sweet scent of bread that lingered in the air. It was so faint, Baz mistook it for Simon’s naturally sweet scent.

But it was magic.

Gentle, strange, and new… but magic all the same.

Baz layed a reassuring hand on Penny’s shoulder and she sat quietly at the table. He circled around it to Simon, holding his hands out in a silent request for a hug. Simon buried his face in Baz’s neck. His wings shot out and wrapped around them both.

“I don’t know how much more change I can take,” Simon mumbled into Baz’s shoulder. “We were finding our way at last. We were happy.”

“Simon, love… we’re still happy. Still together.” Baz pushed Simon back and cupped his cheeks. “It’s all right, Simon. This is still you. The next phase of you. And I’ll still be here with you for it.”

“I was just getting used to being Normal.”

“You have wings and a tail, Simon, you’ll never be Normal.”

He pressed his lips together against a smile and gave a jerky nod.

Baz kissed his cheeks, then ran a soothing hand down Simon’s back. “I suppose this is why your t-shirts don’t tear anymore.”

“And why no one’s seen you flying at night,” Penny added. 

“I thought that was luck - flying at night.” Simon shifted his wings and bit his lip nervously. “If - I - Dr Wellbelove said I could learn… to hide my own wings.”

“That’s wonderful Simon! You’ll be free to come and go as you like then.”

“You won’t need me anymore,” Baz said with a teasing nudge.

“Oh I’ll still need you. Just… not for that.” He blushed down at his feet, then peered up at Baz through his lashes with a soft smile. “It’s going to be strange, isn’t it?”

“It’s new, and oddly enough old at the same time. Who knows, maybe this time you’ll manage your magic better. I’m looking forward to seeing what comes next.”

Simon smiled and gave Baz a genuine smile. “Me too. I think.”

“We should go out to celebrate!” Penny said cheerily, clearing the tea things from the table.

“And bring your Normal along with us?”

Penny rolled her eyes. “So he can hear us talk about your magic and Dr Wellbelove? Maybe next time. Come on. Hide your own wings and we’ll go to Vertigo for drinks. I’ll get my shoes.”

As soon as she left, Simon pulled Baz in for another hug and a light kiss on the lips. “I’m scared.”

“It’s nothing to be scared about,” Baz insisted. “You had magic before, and now you have magic again.”

“It’s going to be different.”

“Different in a good way.”

“Let me wallow in my bad mood.”

“No.”

Simon grinned, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Taking Baz’s hand, Simon closed his eyes. The scent of fresh bread filled the air and Simon’s wings faded from sight.

The start of a new chapter for Simon Snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, for making it this far! I'm sorry to leave you hanging this way, but I have no plans to continue the story on. I hope you enjoyed this slice of Baz and Simon's life together, and my first big foray into CO!


End file.
